Racing The Bullet
by Cicero-Phelps
Summary: (Completed Oct 22) Imagine Rick Hunter as James Bond, minus all the sex, and lot more angst. We never did find out what happened between
1. Default Chapter

Racing The Bullet  
  
A Robotech Fan Fiction Story  
  
Note: The usual disclaimers apply here; I do not own these characters, nor do I benefit in any way from the promulgation and circulation of these characters in alternate settings. This is merely my feeble attempt to add "what-if" type scenarios to an already growing fan base. I hope you enjoy my humble tome. This story takes place in the two-year gap between "Force of Arms" and "Reconstruction Blues". And, keeping in the spirit of the Rick/Lisa couplehood fans out there, it is a major thrust of the storyline, but will be told exclusively, or almost exclusively, from Rick Hunter's perspective. We never quite know what he's thinking or feeling, and this is an attempt to sort it out, in the realm of what-if. 


	2. The Mission

Commander Rick Hunter was laying on his back in his room onboard the SDF-1.  He was, understandably, quite exhausted from the past six months' events; the destruction of Dolza's Grand Armada, aiding in the establishment of New Macross City, and patrolling the wastelands between New Macross and New Detroit, New Boulder, and other newly re-established, yet still floundering, outcroppings of human existence.  

_It's sure been a long road to get **this** far,_ he reflected.  _To go the distance will be harder still.  How many heartbreaks, how much chaos, how much destruction must we endure to gain our eventual absolution?_

He'd also been requested (read: ordered) to undergo counter-insurgency and Special Ops training, per orders from Admiral Gloval.  It wasn't just him, though, and that made him feel a little better about it.  All of the pilots in the RDF were required to undergo this training session, so as to increase their worth in situations where a squadron of Robotech mecha would be overkill, and standard infantry wouldn't be enough.  Rick sighed.  Rock climbing and hang gliding were fun activities, he decided, but why did he and his men have to undergo these techniques?  They were pilots, not commandos.

_Oh well, _he sighed.  _I guess, if they wanted us to undergo these rituals, there has to be something to it, even if I don't fully understand it._  
            It was about 7pm, and he was exhausted mentally and physically from the day's events, but he still couldn't sleep.  He turned on the radio, but all he could get on the reception band was Minmei's concert.  _I don't feel like listening to this tonight,_ he groaned.  Looking through the selection of music he'd acquired over many years, he finally selected an old CD, _Last Protest Singer_, by an artist named Harry Chapin; his last album, in fact, for he died while completing it, and there were several unfinished tracks on the disc. Rick was feeling somewhat melancholy that evening, and there were a few songs on that disc that fit his mood to a t.  Track 4 sprung to his tips first.

It used to be that old John Wayne 

_Would fight the good fight once again,_

_Find the strength to bear the pain,_

_Stand up till he'd finally fall._

_Well, now it's not just movie time,_

_And now it's you that's on the line,_

_And now it's you who's gotta find_

_If you can stand at all._

Why did he feel like it was a last ditch moment?  The Zentraedi fleet was repulsed, defeated, and disorganized; the bandits on the fringes were poorly organized if well armed. Disaster was a far cry off on the horizon, even though rumors of Khyron's survival and expansion regularly filtered in through the many spies they had in the Zentraedi ranks.   So why did he feel like he was making a desperate fight?

_And, so my friend, it's the last stand,_

_The last song from the last band,_

_The last note from the last man,_

_But you gave it all you can…_

Minmei still occupied a spot in his heart.  He'd long ago accepted this as a fact; that this young Chinese girl would be in his memory; hell, she was the first one he'd been that close to in his entire life.  But she was growing in importance as a star persona, a symbol of renewal and hope to the citizens of the wastelands, and her growing dependence on her cousin, Kyle, was bothersome.  _That man,_ he grimaced.  _Why do I always get the urge to beat him up?_ Maybe jealousy, he wasn't sure.  But the cousins sure had a lot of traits in common.  And it seemed like a part of their love died the day he flew into combat in the Battle Of The Line.  He felt as if, in a few ways, he had outgrown her, was better than her, and needed something else, whereas another part wanted to give it another chance, even though he knew the likely outcome.

_The cards came down to the last deal,_

_You're a starving man at his last meal,_

_And the movie's rolled down to the last reel,_

_It's got an ending you've never planned._

Then there was Lisa, Commander Hayes.  His first impression of this superwoman had been that of a fussy, bossy old sourpuss.  Later, he found that that was not the case.  Lisa Hayes was a mature, funny, caring woman, once you got past her knee-jerk self defense mechanism of dismissing all personal issues as irrelevant.  And she seemed so sincerely interested in what went on in his life, instead of talking about her day, her accomplishments, her vanity.  She'd listen to him for hours on end, and he felt guilty about that, too.  He was so selfish, in some ways, and she was so selfless, it was as if they were polar opposites in that regard.

She's left you now, and so it seems 

_You've tumbled down the last stream,_

_And you found out that the final dream_

_Could disappear so fast._

_Watch it all just fade away, boy._

_It all came down to the last day,_

_And then the last out, and then the last play,_

_And you're alone at last._

Why did this seem to symbolize his relationship with Minmei?  They were never that close even when they "dated", and it seemed childish to keep feeling for a woman who never returned his affections.  She was a big-time flirt, and kept encouraging attention from soldiers, even when Rick made her aware how that made him feel.

Rick sat bolt upright in bed.  _That's_ why he had the feeling of a desperate fight moments ago.  His conflicted feelings were coming to a head, and he couldn't avoid the train-wreck that was heading his way.  He allowed himself to be lost in the music again.

Well, so it was, late last night 

_She left on the final flight,_

_And you watched as the last light_

_Went out there, in your soul._

That's how he felt when Lisa told him that she was leaving for Alaska Base, and when he discovered that the base was (almost) totally destroyed.  But all they ever did, all he was ever doing with her, was fighting.  So why was there such a feeling of utter relief when he saved her from the devastating aftermath?  The passionate embrace they shared hinted at a new angle of their relationship, one that they were both reluctant to explore.  But the ghosts of their embraces, and the kiss they shared when they escaped Alaska Base, ate at his soul.  

Alaska Base was a nightmare, walls detonating all around them, and glass shards flying in their faces.  That was the most harrowing bunch of flying that he'd ever done, and nightmares of that night still haunted him.  _What if Lisa and I had perished in our escape attempt?  Would that have been more appropriate?  And how would I have felt if she died in my lap, leaving me behind? Or vice versa?  How could we have lived with that?  _The dreams and nightmares were starting to eat away at his self-confidence as a pilot.  And this time, Roy wouldn't be around to help him through it.

_Take your look around the top,_

_For now you face your final drop;_

_You'll go down fast, and you won't stop_

_You found a very deep hole._

_Say you're off on the last ride,_

_Remembering how she last cried,_

_And you know that love, at long last, died_

_In silence, not in pain._

_You lost your last, your last race,_

_Stumbled in at last place,_

_Too late to find the one last face_

_Waiting in the rain…_

The intercom buzzed.  "Commander Hunter, you're needed in the conference room, immediately.  Commander Hunter, please report to the conference room immediately."

Rick got up stiffly, feeling his muscles that were strained from the days' exercises rebuild themselves fiber by fiber, as he crossed to the door and into the hallway.  His duty jacket was rumpled, half unbuttoned, and spoke plainly of a long day and a rest well deserved.  He hoped that the briefing would be for a mission that wouldn't be too complex, or immediate.

He entered Conference Room 007, and crossed to the chair at the foot of the small rectangular table; it could only hold, at most, 6 people.  Admiral Gloval, General Maistroff, and General Carruthers were all at the head of the table, but no other member of the senior staff was there.  Where was Lisa?  _ Probably on the bridge_, he thought.  "Admiral, Commander Rick Hunter reporting, as requested."

Gloval returned the salute casually and waived Rick into an overstuffed chair.  "No need for the formalities tonight, Rick," he said.  "It's been an extremely taxing day for us all, and we need to conserve our strength."

Rick picked up on the tone of the Admiral's voice and frowned.  This would not be good.

"We have a small problem, one that requires delicate handling and limited circulation of the facts at hand.  I decided to let you handle it, because you are a top-notch pilot, soldier, and leader."

Rick was stunned.  Admiral Gloval rarely offered praise to his subordinates in front of other officers, especially in such glowing terms.  But he also sensed that something big was coming up, and he steeled himself for the request that was inevitably going to follow.

Gloval looked at Maistroff, who cleared his throat with a loud cough.  Maistroff began, "At 0930, we acceded to a request by Monument City to send a delegation of our RDF personnel over to their base in order to rebuild some of the unity our military has been lacking in recent months, and to instruct them in various tactics and procedures that could assist them in defeating the raiders along the wasteland.  The four officers left on an armored shuttlecraft, and headed north into this mountain pass," he indicated a cavern in the middle of twin mountain ranges that started north of New Macross City and ended just before the border with Monument City.  "The path is surrounded by raider elements, but is, at present, the only way to Monument, without flying in the path of the raiders' anti-aerial batteries." 

"Somewhere around here," Carruthers indicated a spot just past the right-hand bend in the pass, one that would have put them on final approach to Monument City, "we lost all contact with the shuttle at 1200.  No radar signal, no radio contact, nothing.  Monument's outpost sent out a recon group, but when they arrived at the site around 1430, they found the shuttle deserted and gutted, along with evidence of a protracted fight on the ground surrounding the crash site.  We suspect that the raiders attacked them, but there is no proof or definitive answer."

Rick's eyes grew with a dawning horror.  "Who's missing from that flight?"

The officers avoided the question.  "You are being dispatched to investigate the shuttle's crash, as well as to locate and retrieve the personnel who are missing.  The crash site is deep within raider-held territory, so a standard scouting and retrieval party is not an option at this time.  All data and equipment you can salvage is also greatly appreciated."

"Generals, Admiral, will one of you please tell me who's missing?"

Admiral Gloval cleared his throat and said, almost sadly, "Almost my entire bridge crew; Lisa, Claudia, Kim, and Sammie."

"_What?!?_"

"That's right, Rick," Gloval said gently.  "Monument City requested them to train their command staff, and also as a part of a goodwill victory tour.  Now they're lost, and heaven only knows what happened.  You're the only one that we can trust to bring them home.  Will you accept the mission?"

Rick's heart beat faster in his chest.  The admiral was never an emotional man, he always kept to himself…but this time, the blow was personal, and he could sense that Admiral Gloval was berating himself for thinking he allowed the unforeseen to happen.  "I will bring them home, Admiral.  You can count on me."

"Good.  Before you depart, please make it a point to visit Dr. Lang. His crew has developed a few new devices that can help you on this mission.  Also, you will dress in civilian clothing; we have to keep this matter a secret as long as possible.  If the raiders hear that our missing personnel were high up in the chain of command, they may consider this a prime moment to attack in strength."

Rick nodded.  "I understand, sir."

"You may depart as soon as you are ready, Commander Hunter," Maistroff said.  "Good night."

Rick saluted, spun around on his left heel, and left the room.


	3. Game Day

_Chapter II_

  
  
  
  


_ "Rick, you shouldn't have come for me," Lisa was saying on his intercom. "It is my destiny to stay here when the base goes up."_

_ "Lisa, you're nuts! Why do you insist on dying here?"_

_ "You have someone to go back to. I am alone, and probably always will be. You have Minmei, and she will miss you if you died. The only person who would mourn me would be Claudia. Go! Leave me!"_

_ Rick flew into the command tower and burned a hole in the wall. "Lisa, I don't know what you're talking about. I'd miss you, too. Why are you isolating yourself?"_

_ "Go away, Rick, I'm going to die here, alongside my father."_

_ Rick dragged her along and aided her as they climbed into the cockpit. "I'm not leaving you behind. My mission parameters don't allow it, and even if it did, I am not leaving a friend behind."_

_ "You…you consider me a friend?"_

_ "It's more than that, Lisa. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel deeply for you. And it would hurt me to see you die like this."_

_ They took off in the Valkyrie and aimed towards the opening at the far end of the cavern. Flames encircled the hallway, and a fireball boiled up from behind them. Wall segments started blowing out at random intervals, and punctured the cockpit. Glass flooded their vision, and Rick lost control of the_   
_plane. "Aaaaaahhhhh!"_

_ The plane shot out of the cavern and hit the far wall. They lay broken and bleeding on the valley floor, looking into each others eyes. "Lisa," Rick began._

_ "Yes?"_

_ "I was wrong, when I told you that I didn't know what I was feeling for you. I think I'm in love with you." Then they kissed._

Rick sat bolt upright in bed, scared nearly senseless. 

Despite a fit of nightmares, he got in a solid six hours of sleep. And then, dressed in jeans, a turtleneck, and a utility vest, he reported back to Admiral Gloval. "Admiral, I was hoping to talk to you privately before I departed on my mission, sir." 

"Good morning, Commander Hunter. What is on your mind?" 

"Sir, I may be speaking out of turn, but it seemed to me that you were highly agitated at the briefing last night. Is there any information that you feel I should be aware of that you couldn't tell me about?" 

"You are remarkable perceptive, Rick," Gloval replied. The admiral thumbed a switch on his desk, and there was a momentary electronic whine in the room; probably some sort of eavesdropping prevention device. 

"We had a suspicion that the raiders would return to Monument, but also believed that they had no base in the immediate area of the canyon. And, even if they swung up towards Monument, we also assumed that the shuttle could outrun the strike force. Apparently, we were wrong. 

"It may not be related, but I have various…informants…around the city, as well as around the ship. Many of them have strongly indicated a growing anti-alien sentiment, almost a racist faction, forming among the people of Earth. Many of these groups are presumed hostile, and may also spread their hostility to humans whom they believe to be too sympathetic to the Zentraedi. I suspect that they may have a hand in this, but nothing confirmed beyond a few wild guesses. Aside from that, I just worry about my crew. Lisa and Claudia are good officers and are probably safe and sound, but it's Kim and Sammie that really worry me. I don't know how, or if, they can handle an incident like this. But the collective loss of talent, as well as their celebrity, is what really perturbs me the most. Please bring them back." 

"Yes, sir," Rick replied, turning to leave. 

"One more thing, commander," Gloval said. 

"Yes?" 

"Your sidearm," the admiral said. 

Rick took the pistol out of his shoulder holster and handed it butt first to his superior. "As I suspected, a 9mm pistol. You do, of course, realize that this will be inadequate when dealing with any Zentraedi insurgents, correct?" 

"Yes, sir. I was hoping Doctor Lang would have something more appropriate for me when I visited the research department." 

The admiral pushed a button on his desk. "Please, send in Dr. Lang, and Lt. Commander Leeds." 

The door to his office hissed open a few seconds later, and Vanessa Leeds, the chief radar officer, and Dr. Lang, head of R&D on the SDF-1, both entered the room. "Well, as it seems that we are all assembled, let us begin with the basics of Commander Hunter's mission." 

"Please hold out zee left wrist, Commander," Lang said. Rick complied, and was handed a new watch. 

"Is this a polite way of saying I don't know the time of day, or am I missing something here," Rick asked. 

A round of mild amusement circulated the room. "No, Commander, zis is not merely a watch. Observe." Lang took a similar watch out of his pocket and pressed the knob that most people would use to wind the timepiece. A piton expanded, and Lang aimed it at the far wall, then pressed the indiglo button, which fired the piton, trailing along a thin wire as it connected to the far wall. "Not zee best demonstrahtion, Commander, but I trust you get zee point?" 

"I think so, Doctor; I assume it is to be used for mountain climbing?" 

"Only in extrheme situations, Rick. The high tensile wire can carry or hold up to 300 lbs, but it is not meant for continuous use. For that, you will be equipped with schandard mountain gear, such as ropes, hooks, and such. You will also carry standard survival rations, water, and sundries, as well as a stahte of zee art communications uplink, in this ear-sized fitting, piped directly into Commander Leeds' board, and untraceable by anyone else. You will have instant, static free contact with zee ship." 

"This is all fascinating, Dr. Lang, but what about my armaments? I mean, what if I encounter some hostiles?" 

Vanessa stepped forward with a huge grin. "A wonderful little device from our R&D department. It's a MOG, or Multiple Ordinance Gun," she explained as she handed him a slim, rectangular box. The main component was a pistol with an oversized chamber, alongside an attachable stock, barrel, external magazine, and scope. 

"So, you're giving me a collapsible sniper rifle?" 

"It's better than that, Commander, it is capable of expending any ammunition caliber, rifle or pistol, and can be used as either a rifle or a pistol, to maximize its usefulness," Vanessa remarked. 

"You see, Rick," Gloval remarked, noting the startled look on the young pilot's face, "Commander Leeds, here, was the second member of the bridge crew to qualify on this weapon." The look on the admiral's face was pained, and Rick instinctively knew who the first bridge member was. 

"Now, Commander," Gloval continued, "their last reported contact position was 100 klicks north by northeast of New Macross City. That is deep inside raider territory, lead by a renegade Zentraedi squadron leader named Kharfoux. He is personally responsible for the destruction and massacre at New Salt Lake City last month, and his reputation was made especially fearsome when he destroyed the hospital and all med/evac ships out of sheer boredom." 

"That's insane," Rick shouted. "Has this been a shift in raider policy?" 

"No, I don't think so. Through Breetai, we've received a transmission from Khyron condemning that attack, though only because micronized Zentraedi were killed in the confusion." 

"He's all heart, I'll give him that." Rick looked at the map, and asked, "How am I supposed to get that far into enemy territory without being detected?" 

"Kharfoux seems to have salvaged an impacted scout cruiser from the wastelands. He seems to have an almost unlimited supply of battle and fighter pods at his disposal, so this will fit in with the opening of our plan. We will send the Commanders Sterling up an hour before your insertion, and have them draw off the fighter support, then throw a Destroid unit at the raiders' main body, stationed just beyond the walls of the canyon. While the fight rages, we'll send you in via parachute from a high-flying cargo plane. Then, we'll send more Destroids to secure a retrieval zone about 5 kilometers from the wreckage site, where you can escort any survivors…" Gloval's voice choked for a moment. "The survivors back to friendly forces for evacuation." 

"Thank you, sir," Rick said. "Vanessa, I'd like to test the comm unit before I leave, is that okay?" 

"Aye, sir. Why don't you test it from the launch bay? I'm sure that if you can get a clear signal through all that noise and interference, it could work anywhere." 

"Good thinking. We'll commence testing in 5 minutes." 

"Good luck Rick," she said, and, saluting smartly to her superiors, departed for the bridge. 

"Good hunting, Commander," Gloval said. 

"Thank you, Admiral, Doctor," Rick replied, saluting. Then he, too, left the room for another destination. 

************* 

"Quo usque tandem abutere, Catalinam, patientiae nostra," Rick muttered to himself in the launch bay. 

"Reading you loud and clear, Rick," Vanessa replied. "Now, would you mind telling me what the hell you just said?" 

"A little Latin I picked up from an old friend. It's from an old Roman senator, Cicero, and it means, 'For how long, Cataline, will you abuse our patience?'" 

"Ah. Well, the test was flawless. Ready to proceed? 

"Yup. Just waiting for the green light from the bridge." 

"Operation Retrieval is a go, Commander. May you have only clear skies and perfect shots." 

"Thanks, Vanessa," Rick replied. The C-5A sped off towards the end of _Prometheus's_ runway, and took off into the blue heavens above   
  



	4. ZMinus30

**_Chapter III_**

Rick just sat in his chair in the small crew compartment, attempting to gain a few extra minutes of sleep, minutes that he knew could, and often did, mean the difference between life and death.  But lately, truly peaceful sleep kept eluding him; Minmei was almost never present in his dreams, but Lisa was; in fact, he was spending all his time thinking about Lisa and never about Minmei, recently.  That comforted and disturbed him at the same time. It was like he was the captain of a ship about to ship off for the unknown, excited, afraid, confident, nervous, and above all, afraid to let himself or others down.  He'd felt like that before, when he joined the RDF, but Roy, his "Big Brother," told him it was 'performance anxiety'.

The flight out of Alaska Base haunted him repeatedly, but each nightmare sequence was different.  That was the damnable part about it.  If it was exactly the same every night, he could try not to panic, or at least try to redirect his memory to other, more pleasant images, like the Miss Macross contest…_a pity Lisa never entered.  I wonder what she'd look like in the bathing suit competition?_

That thought sent a bolt of electricity through his spine, and he jumped in his seat.  Where did _that_ come from?  Minmei's appearance on stage was enough of a distraction; he almost got wiped out by a Zentraedi scout craft while trying to watch the beauty pageant two years ago.  But the thought of Lisa as a contestant…

_Why_ were his thoughts always returning to her?  Sure, she was sexy, confident, kind, witty, but she was also his superior officer.  That, alone, was a practical concern.  How could he maintain a professional relationship with her if he got all mushy and weak in the knees around her?  And, more importantly, _why_ did her presence make him all blubbery and foolish every time he got close to her?

He tried to think of Minmei, but she hadn't called him in 3 months, and every intimate moment they had shared was a distant memory, nearly 3 years since they'd been close to each other.  He tried convincing himself that she was old news, tried to get his heart to beat again, to live and fly beyond the walls of a dying and depressing failed love affair.  His teenage immaturity died with their romance, along with all of his old beliefs and perspectives.

Lisa represented a new phase of his life, a maturity he wanted to claim for his own, but wasn't sure if that was what he was capable of, nor was he certain that he deserved a woman like Lisa Hayes.  Could he break out of his shallow, isolating persona to become a confident, capable officer, soldier, and human being?

The inner discourse started unnerving him, so he double-checked all his equipment.  His parachute had been packed by the top rigger in the RDF, so he declined to inspect it; the man could teach Rick more about parachutes in 5 minutes than Rick could learn by himself in 5 years.  He looked over his new service pistol, and fretted about it for a moment; his Walther P-99 had served him well for most of his career in the RDF, but this new weapon had not been field tested yet.  Would it jam on him?  Or would it not do all that had been promised?  

Above all else, even worse than being a test pilot, he absolutely detested trying out new weapons systems when they had not been fully proven.  He had constant, unsubstantiated fears of pulling the trigger and having the guns blow up in his face, killing him, or, even worse, blinding him for life.  He was highly dependent on his senses and his acuity in hearing and eyesight were always his pride and joy; he had stood out as best in his training cadre in target recognition and knowing which direction a missile was coming from based solely on sound.  That was the only thing he feared worse than dying.  And he knew, in his heart, that it was an immature, paranoid fear, but he couldn't shake it.

He gave the pistol a close inspection, opened the action, peered down the barrel, and, seeing that it was clean and free of obstruction, smiled to himself.  He closed the action, and then threaded the suppressor onto the business end of his pistol.  He had to admit it, it wasn't the most elegant weapon ever devised, but it was still pretty nice to look at.  He unthreaded the suppressor, placed it in the pouch in his holster that allowed it to hide, slapped home a clip of 9mm ammo, and put the safety catch on.  

As he finished that, he allowed himself to think about how he had gone from a naïve, arrogant boy to a professional pilot with a few dozen kills painted on his Valkyrie. The lessons that Roy Fokker had given him, the philosophy imparted, had had a far greater impact on his life than Roy could have ever dreamed.  

***************Flashback*************

"Just remember, Rick," Roy told him, trying to ease Rick into the psychology of combat, "all life is sacred, in its pure and innocent form.  However, when it becomes evil, it corrupts the sacred nature it had, and becomes impure.  Therefore, in that sense, it is okay to damage that which is impure, because impurities of the soul, and evil in general, must be purged from the world."

"But what about the loss of innocent life, Roy?"

"It happens whether you act or not, Rick.  That's not to say that you should ever try to take it on purpose, or to stop caring about it when it happens, but never let it stop you from doing your job.  A pilot, any soldier, completes each mission on borrowed time.  Our lives are not our own, and any second, they could change 180 degrees.  We could have to lay down our lives at a moment's notice, and there's nothing we can say that could change it.  That's the only thing that all humans have in common, our mortality.  Innocent life is lost every day, either if we act and accidentally cause damage, or if we fail to act, and the loss becomes greater. 

"Conversely, you should never throw your life away recklessly.  Any man who throws his life away for a whim or a passing fancy is a fool, and should never see combat.  You just have to figure out how to get the mission done without wasting your life, or those of your men.  You need to care for and about them, build up their morale, treat them well, but never baby or nursemaid them.  If you do, it will make it almost impossible for you to order any of them into combat, and they will be less likely to obey your orders in combat.  Treat them all as equals, and don't play favorites.  If there is any sign of favoritism in the ranks, it will cause discord.  But above all, remember this: physical life isn't the pinnacle of human existence.  The human body is only worth about a buck in spare change, when burned to its base elements.  The soul, the personality, the essence, of the being is what is truly important.  It can never be destroyed with the body, because the body is merely a reflection of the soul, much like a screen against which a movie is played.  So destroying the screen won't kill the movie, if you get my drift."

"I do, Big Brother.  Thank you."

"Anytime, Rick."

*******************

            Rick jolted back to the present, and looked at his watch.  He had about 15 minutes till he would be over the target, and so he looked out the window.  The aerial battle raged without mercy on either side.  He heard a hiss on the intercom and realized that the pilot was trying to get a reception of battle traffic on the airwaves.

            "Skull Leader to squadron, form by pairs and move in by flights.  We're going to attempt a pincer movement.  Rogue squad, move to the southwest sector to cut off their escape vector.  Hawkeyes, cover the downed pilots, make sure they don't get nailed by stray shots, and keep them in good condition until the med shuttles can get to them.  Ready?  Execute!"

            Rick was amazed at the confidence and skill Max had always displayed, and knew he made the right decision to lend him the Skull One for his missions while Rick was on assignment.  He scanned for Miriya's plane, but didn't see it.  "Captain, search for the transponder for Skull Three."

            "It's on the prairie, Commander, not able to fly, but scanners indicate that it is still relatively intact.  The pilot is unhurt, as well."

Rick sighed to himself.  That was a good sign.  Maybe the rest of the mission would be that successful.  "Coming up over the target area, Commander."

Rick got his parachute and other equipment loaded on his back, then went to the loading door.  The crew chief hooked his chute cord to the static line and gave the thumbs up.  Rick stood at the door, looked out over the deep blue sky and the canyon below, then took a deep breath and made a swan leap out the door, to whatever destiny awaited below…


	5. Commando Strike

**_Chapter IV_**

            The rush of cold air, the rapid unraveling of his static line, and the sudden expansion of his chute all happened before Rick could consciously record the memory.  One minute ago, he had been standing on the drop gate of the plane, and now he was hurtling through the air, at an untold speed, towards an unknown destiny.  Rick loved the feeling.  

_I never thought about it much before, but I live for the chase.  The electricity you could taste in the air, even in an antiseptic hospital, the adrenaline flowing through your veins as your every choice determines your survival, I live for that.  It is an energy that's beyond the thrill that bungee-jumpers and parachutists feel during their thrill stunts, a feeling so vulgar that it is never verbally acknowledged; yet universally understood.  I figure, what the hell, if you have to do this deed, you might as well enjoy your work.  That is not to say I like killing people.  That is my least favorite part of this job.  But the very ability to change Fate, to help others and risk it all for the sake of a game you will never personally win, that is the constant draw for me._

He heard a loud explosion above, and, risking a fast glance upwards, saw the C-5A barreling out of control, its aft on fire, and making its final descent, in a deadly tango with gravity.  Rick realized he got out just in time.  He scanned the area for bogies, but came up negative with just his eyes; he figured he was too high up to really notice.  He tried to shrink his target profile as best he could as he drifted and descended.

A few minutes later, his feet hit a plateau inside the lip of the canyon, just behind a large outcropping of rocks, and he disentangled himself from the chute as he tried to hide it.  Drawing his pistol, he looked around the edge of the rocks, and saw two soldiers among an ammo dump.  One was holding a shoulder mounted Surface-To-Air missile, or SAM, and appeared to be scanning for other large targets; the other was handling the communications system.  

Rick readied two throwing knives and aimed the first at the neck of the goon with the SAM launcher.  He steadied himself, breathed a silent plea for forgiveness at the act he was about to do, and let the first one fly, lodging it firmly in the back of the man's neck.  His companion turned around to see what had happened and received a knife in the throat for his efforts.  Rick grimaced.  That was definitely _not_ in the game plan, as Gloval and company had trained him.  Where had that skill come from?

He dragged the bodies and equipment behind the rocks he had hid behind, and looked over their scanners.  _Definitely human equipment,_ Rick decided.  _Gloval was right in his assessment.  Definitely, in this case, a renegade human element._  
            There was a single-seat hover-cycle nearby, and Rick eyed it speculatively.  First, though, he should report to SDF-1 Control.  "Bridge, this is Hunter.  I have reached Target Alpha, and am prepared to proceed to Beta and begin recording.  Please monitor enemy communications and notify me of any patrols heading in my direction."

"Received and will comply, Hunter.  You may proceed."

Rick ran towards the cycle and did a handspring onto the seat.  Besides planes and flying, racing cycles was a true love of his life.  He fixed the 'borrowed' goggles on his face, hit the throttle, and sped off towards the last transponder location for Shuttle Group Omega, the convoy that had carried four of the finest officers he had ever known, which was 5 klicks away.

About a klick up the road, he heard a whoosh by the back of his cycle, and realized that, once again, he was under fire.  "Rick, you have multiple bogies on screen, surrounding your position.  Be careful."

"Tell me something I don't already know," Rick muttered.  He glanced at the radar on the pommel of the bike, and found that he had been surrounded by several thugs who looked like they were refugees from a fat farm.  Rick revved the engine and sped towards the nearest overhang, feeling the heat of tracer bullets and the occasional LAW (Light Antitank Weapon) whiz by his bike.  _These guys have all the accuracy of a blind firing squad_, he thought.

That thought was rewarded by a small blowout on the forward outrigging on the bike.  Suddenly rewarded with the challenge of a sluggish change in maneuverability, he set the altitude lifters on max and roped the handlebars into a straight position with the safety harness as he looked for his next stop on this flight into hell.

_It never fails.  You have a decision to make, to react to a situation, and then once you resolve that, you face the same situation, different circumstances.  I just decided to run, and now I have to ditch my only decent transportation in this forsaken hellhole.  Jumping out of a burning building it isn't, but it's still a helluva way to get this show on the road._

He saw a small outcropping of rock and leapt forward into midair, groping blindly for purchase against the small plateau…

********

Authors' notes:  

For all of the Bond fans out there, I intend to give a lot more offhand references in future installments.  

As to why the last two chapters end with Rick hanging in midair, I've always felt that leaping, jumping, and moving forward implied growth and progress.  Maybe he'll grow stronger because of this? 

Nothing against modern music, although my tastes are definitely fogey-like by most accounts, but I always felt that Harry Chapin, Billy Joel, and artists of their era, especially in their heydays, managed to capture angst the best, so I'll kick in a few other musical surprises in the near future.

Suggestions, requests, encouragement, as always, are welcomed and desired.  I'll try to post a chapter or two each week until I finish the arc, but as Lennon always said, "Life is what happens when you make other plans."


	6. Half a victory

**_Chapter V_**

_Born free, as free as the wind blows…_

Rick felt as if he was flying again, that all time had stopped, that he was above all of the concerns and battles below and around him.  He heard and saw some of the bullets in his general direction, but, oddly enough, wasn't concerned by them, and felt as if he was superior to mere flesh wounds.  Then, all of a sudden, time sped up again, and he started falling.

Rocks and other Earth-made objects can be hazardous to one's health, he realized.  Arms flailing, knuckles bleeding, and short of breath, he finally grabbed a hand-sized chunk of rock on the wall face. He just held on for dear life, as if that one clump of geologic debris was his only worldly possession.  As his breathing returned to its normal rate, he looked above and below him for another handhold with which to gain purchase against the wall.  Finding another hold above his head, he moved his left hand to the rock, and grabbed for a grappling hook with his right.  Finding the metal hook, he threw it with all of his might towards the farthest point of rock he could see, and was greeted with a _clink _as it connected.  He tugged and yanked as hard as he could without losing his balance, then decided to give it a shot and shimmy up the rope.

There was a plateau about 12 feet above him, and that appeared to be where the hook had surgically implanted itself among Mother Nature's meager offerings in the wastelands, so he climbed up as fast as he could.  Once he got there, he lay out and rested, feeling, yet again, every bone in his body aching for relief. He glanced at his watch.  It was only noon, yet he felt as if he'd been hanging on to that rocky ledge for more time than the world had to offer.  Gravity is a not a matter to take lightly.

Suddenly, he felt a presence off to his left.  He looked over and saw three familiar shapes hurriedly beckoning him to the cave they inhabited.  He levered himself to his knees, then to his feet, and stumbled towards the cave.

"Well, if it isn't our knight in shining armor," Claudia said.

"Looks like he took a tumble from his horse," giggled Sammie.

"That's why he looks like crap," Kim laughed, then covered her mouth in horror.  "Sorry, Commander, no offense."

"None taken ladies, none taken.  Now, while my bones knit, would you mind telling me what happened out here, and why you didn't contact headquarters?"

"Well, everything was fine when we took off from the _Prometheus_, and we flew the proscribed route through raider territory, only we flew at twice the normal speed, to avoid detection and increase the odds of getting out alive," Claudia began.

"It all began about the time we made the right banking turn towards Monument, and the three VT escorts all reported simultaneous engine failure, resulting in catastrophic loss of control." Kim continued, noticing how weary and worn-out Claudia looked.  "They went down, one right after the other, on the canyon floor, each going up in a burst of flames and a loud explosion; we never got visual footage of the wreckage, though. As they were reporting their malfunctions to us, we lost all radio contact with the base, due to some sort of jamming problem.  We couldn't raise Vanessa or Admiral Gloval, so you never learned about the malfunctions.  Then, we were hit by AA fire from somewhere on the canyon floor, and the ship went down."

"It was a SAM," Sammie said, with a faraway look in her eyes.  "I…I saw it a split second before it hit."

"Why didn't you _say_ something, child?" Claudia snapped.

"By the time I noticed it, we couldn't have avoided it, that's why," Sammie shot back.  "But all of that isn't the main problem right now."

"Oh?  Then what is the main problem," Rick asked.

"Getting out of here, you doofus," Kim bit out.

"That's the easy part," he smiled easily.  "Admiral Gloval ordered up some fancy livery, so you can all cruise back in style.  But before we call for the limo," (at this point, Sammie was grinning and Kim was frowning, even as Claudia just smiled at the thought of being rescued), I need one of you to get me to the crash site."  Then, he froze, as if a missile struck him amidships.

"What's wrong, Rick," Claudia asked.

"Where's Lisa?"

"Well, all of a sudden, he seems to care," Kim snarled.

"Kim!" Sammie tried to shush her best friend, but Claudia stopped the impending argument by saying, "She was…flung…from the plane in the opposite direction from us.  We tried looking for her, but ran into what looked like micronized Zentraedi infantry, and had to dig in to the limited perimeter the shuttle gave us.  We may not be fully trained infantry, but we did hold our own," she noted with a trace of pride.  

"They were about to overrun our position when we noticed a cavern in the wall of the ravine.  We ran inside to escape, and used some explosives to pull a few boulders from the roof to discourage pursuit.  That path would be the fastest way back to the plane; c'mon, I'll take you.  Ladies, prepare to break camp.  Your 'limo' should be here momentarily."

"Hunter to base," Rick said into his comm unit, "Made contact with three survivors, fourth is at location unknown at the present time.  Am making my way to the crash site to retrieve data and then will proceed to Extraction Point Delta."

"Roger that, Rick, good luck, and we'll see you when you return."

Rick's stomach started churning.  Lisa was missing and he _had_ to find her.  Still, it wouldn't do to let on the depth of one's uncertain emotions, so he kept as blank face as he could while Claudia led him towards the rocky path that would get them to the shuttle crash site.

************

            Rick pulled out his portable hard drive and started uploading all of the shuttle's sensor and communications logs.  There wasn't any sign of wreckage of the three VT's, but he assumed that either some scavengers had taken them, or the shuttle was farther back up the ravine than the other wreckage sites.

Claudia held her pistol at the ready, not anxious, but definitely more than at a casual grip.  Rick looked her over fast, and decided that he finally did realize what Roy knew all along, her qualities, etc.  She and Lisa had a lot of similar qualities, and the two ladies definitely complimented each other's styles, working together in perfect harmony on the bridge.  Not that he was attracted to Claudia, not at all, but that he finally understood Roy at that moment, and it was a warming realization to know that he and "Big Brother" had similar tastes and held the same qualities in regard.  The handheld beeped it's completion, and he nodded to Claudia, who took point all the way back to the rendezvous position.

***********

            Back on the SDF-1 bridge, after a nap, a shower, and a few cups of scalding hot coffee, Rick decided to check back with his research crew.

"Anything interesting, Vanessa," Rick asked.

            "Well, according to the communications logs, there was an overload between the fusion plant and the power distributors leading towards the twin engines," Vanessa reported.  "But that doesn't fit with the atmospheric sensors; they don't record any kind of radioactivity outside the normal spectrum."

            "That's odd.  Which mechanic certified those engines?"

            "A Mechanic Third Class named Tom Cragen."

            "Bring him in for questioning."

            "Want to send the MP's to collect him, sir?"

            "No, that'd make things too obvious.  Isn't he due for a performance review next week?"

            "I think so, sir."

            "Let's bring it up a little.  Have him meet us in conference room 3."

            "_Us_, sir?"

            "I'm gonna get Max to join me," Rick said.            "I know Cragen's superior signed off on it, and that guy's on the level, but this still stinks to high heaven.  Let's get some air freshener for this one."


	7. Shifting gears

**_Chapter VI_**

Rick, after pulling on a flight suit, trotted into the hangar on the _Prometheus_.  "Good afternoon, Max," he said.

            Max, instead of his usual cheerful, optimistic self, was looking quite the maniac.  "It's not the best of times, Rick.  Miriya is missing, the search crews found her plane but not her."

            Rick frowned in confusion; the battle chatter he'd heard told him that she was all right.  "I'm sorry, Max.  Is there anything I can do?"

            "Could you authorize me for a recon flight?"

            "I'll try, but you know how Maistroff gets when us pilots try our hand at intel."

            "Thanks, Rick."

            Rick pulled out the walkie-talkie he had been assigned for base use.  "General Maistroff, this is Commander Hunter.  I'd like to request permission to conduct a reconnaissance flight."

            "What craft are you requesting to use?"

            "A VT trainer, sir, with the added armor and sensor package.  A Cat's Eye would be too noticeable, and also utterly defenseless."

            "Go ahead, Commander, Admiral Gloval has given you the green light.  This operation is now an official, on-the-books RDF investigation.  Who will your co-pilot be?"

            "Commander Max Sterling, sir."

            "Okay.  Go ahead.  Take-off is in 10 minutes.  Get fueled and prepped."

            "I've got some business to take care of, I'll only be a half hour or so.  Then we'll take off, sir."

            "Have it your way, Hunter."

            Max grimaced.  "Now _that's_ a wonderful human being."

            "You're telling me.  Could you join me for about a half hour?  I've got something I need your help on."

            "What's more important than me finding my wife?"

            "I think it's related."  Whereupon, he explained his day to Max, under the cover of pneumatic tools and hydraulic lifts.

********

            A few minutes later, in conference room 3, with Rick and Max in semi-dress regalia, a small, youthful looking mechanic entered, still wearing his coveralls and wiping grease off his hands with a rag that had seen better days before the birth of Christ.  "Mechanic's Mate Third Class Thomas R. Cragen, reporting as requested."

            "Please sit down, Mr. Cragen," Max said, scowling.

            "What's this, sirs?  I thought my review wasn't till next week?"

            "We've decided to step it up a week, Mr. Cragen," Rick said, "in light of evidence we received recently."

            "How do you mean, sir?"

            "Well, a VT escort squadron was sent out yesterday morning, and we lost contact with them three hours later.  Upon investigation, it appears that they crashed, along with the shuttle they were escorting.  We checked the logs of the shuttle, and the sensors indicated massive engine failure in not one, not two, but all three VT fighters, in addition to one shot down in action earlier this afternoon."

            "That's impossible, sir, I checked them all myself."

            "I know, Mr. Cragen, that's why you're in here right now.  Your signature is on the inspection forms of all three fighters.  Do you have any explanation?"

            "I can't explain what happened, sir.  The engines were in tip-top condition when I looked at them." Upon seeing his superiors' skeptical looks, he added hastily, "I'm a new recruit, and I'm still somewhat in training.  After every inspection, I have to have my immediate supervisor check off my work, to make sure I've done a good job, and it's up to par.  He signed the forms, as well.  Did you ask him about that?"

            "We'd already spoken to him, Mr. Cragen," Rick said.  "We were just double-checking all the records involved in the incident.  Everything checks out, mechanic.  I'll file a form recommending you for promotion to Second Class.  You'll hear from the committee in a few days.  That is all."

            Cragen saluted and left the room.

            "What do you think of that, Rick," Max asked.

            "It appears to me that there wasn't any engine malfunction, Max.  But that still doesn't explain three missing VT's.  There wasn't any sign of the wreckage when I scoped out the shuttle site." 

            "Maybe they crashed before the shuttle?  I recall you mentioned that you had to get running fast to avoid the raiders, so you couldn't scope out the other crash sites."

            "That's why I was hoping to bring along a second set of eyes for the search.  Maybe you'll see something I don't.  Besides, Miriya being missing is alarming.  I think that, somehow, it's all related.  Wanna help me find out?"

            "You read my mind, Rick."

***********

            It was a good feeling to have blue sky under one's seat, traveling at supersonic speeds.  Velocity, momentum, and impact are all concerns that pilots have if they make a mistake in piloting, but to Rick, they were comforting variables.  They were constant, even if, no, _especially_ if his heart and head were doing dogfights in the arena called his stomach.

            "You okay, Boss?"

            "Nah, it's ok, Max.  I'm just thinking."

            "Hey, this plane doesn't have ears, and I won't say anything to anyone.  Now, spill it; you haven't looked this despondent since Commander Hayes, er, Lisa left for Alaska Base."

            Rick finally gushed out, "I guess I've been having too much time on my hands to think about things, and the more I think about Minmei, the heavier my heart gets, it feels like its imprisoned in pure, heavy-gauge steel.  Then I think of Lisa, and it's like the steel is removed, the bars of the prison are released.  It's hard to explain, and it's funny to think about…I mean, after all, she _is_ my, our, superior officer."

            Max was silent for many moments, and Rick thought for a few moments that he had overstepped his bounds for a second, that he had embarrassed himself irrevocably, and cringed slightly.  "Is that all, Rick?  It seems that there's more on your mind than that," Max said evenly.

            "Is that all you've got to say, Max?  I mean, doesn't that seem like, I don't know, something really strange for me to say?"

            "Rick, you're easier to read than most humans, and, honestly, it's a refreshing change from dealing with a Zentraedi female.  I can see the way you moon over Lisa every day in the café, and how the feeling is mutual on her part; Miriya tells me that she sees the way Lisa's breath freezes in her chest when you two lock smiles and stares.  I don't wanna seem like I'm speaking out of turn, but it looks like you have the same feelings for Lisa.  So it's nothing to be ashamed about, and it's nothing that I, or the other guys, didn't suspect for a long time coming.  Now, tell me, what else is on your mind?"

            "I'll tell you later, Max," Rick said, his voice suddenly professional.  "We've got company.  Three bogies at 10 o'clock, heading at us from below sensor midline."

            "That doesn't make sense; this is well outside raider territory."

            "It looks like three of ours, but they're broadcasting unusual transponder signals.  Vanessa, are you getting all of this?"

            "Yes, sir, Rick.  It looks like they're standard VT fighters, signaling a call-sign for…" her voice trailed off.

            "Vanessa?"

            "It looks like they're from Hannibal's Steel Legion, Rick," she said.

            "Great, just great."

            "What are a bunch of Carthaginian soldiers doing up here, flying around Alaska?"

            "Funny, Max.  Just give them a wake-up call, we've got some work to do."

            "Wilco, chief."

            Hannibal's Steel Legion was an old mercenary group from the Global Civil War, and how they'd gotten their hands on three VT's were anyone's guess…_unless the sensor logs were faked, and the VT's that were lost were deliberately abandoned…!_****

Rick put the Valkyrie into a power dive, trying to evade the incoming fire.  Max used the lasers on the head, which was, in fighter mode, the chin turret, to char the paint off the lead fighters' hindquarters.  The leader, Hannibal One, responded by firing a missile volley.

_God, I hate barrel rolls under fire_, Rick thought, as he spun the fighter into an inverted dive-cum-barrel roll and fired a decoy volley.  The missiles missed the VT, but barely.  "They're coming around for another pass, Rick," Max exclaimed.

Rick gritted his teeth.  "Return fire.  They wanna play tag, let's play tag."

Max held his fire until the trainer was lined up on the rear-most fighter, Hannibal Three.  He held his breath, waited for second after endless second, felt the shot line up…

"Missiles away, Rick.  Bank portside."

Rick complied, and watched, as Hannibal Three became a huge paint splotch in the atmosphere.  "Good shooting, Max."

Then, Rick felt a large shudder ripple through the fighter.  "Damage report, Max."

"Flak burst hit the rearmost portion of our starboard fusion engine, and the starboard flaps.  Rick, I think we'll have to either run or ditch this bird."

"Let's see how far this wounded bird can fly."

"Roger, boss."

Rick pointed the VT at the sky, trying to evade the two remaining assailants.  "Max, how're we doing with that engine?"

"It's about to blow, boss.  Either we touch down or bail out."

"Well, I'm not about to let our sensor recordings get destroyed, and I'm also surer than hell not leaving the enemy our craft."  He leveled out the fighter and aimed it at a slightly downward angle.  "Initiate cockpit separation."

Max pulled the big red ring that read, "CAUTION: ONLY USE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY," and was rewarded with a 'gentle' tap forward, throwing the cockpit module with C-4 induced acceleration towards the wide, open prairie.

            After a few seconds of hurtling through the sky, they hit dirt a mile from a prairie town, as the flight segment exploded in midair.  "That was the most harrowing landing I've ever made," Max commented

            "You never heard some of those nightmares I've had about Alaska Base," Rick groaned.  At a look from his best friend, he said, "Later, Max, lets just get out of the line of fire."

            They ran towards the nearest boulder, and hid as the merc unit searched for the wreckage of their VT.  When they flew off into the western sun, Rick and Max emerged from hiding and made for the nearby village.

**********

Note: For those of you wondering, yes, I'm a shameless Law and Order fan, so I used the name Cragen.


	8. DowntimeSorting Through Wreckage

Chapter VII

            Rick spotted an old barrel behind the post office in the town, which they'd come to find out was named Clarkstown Flats.  "Max, we should probably ditch our duty jackets here."

            "Whatever for?"

            "Well, let's just say I've got a hunch that soldiers and pilots aren't exactly welcomed around these parts."

            They shed their rank pins, jackets, and coveralls into the barrel, concealing their weapons inside their waistbands.  Max said, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm certainly starving, why don't we get a bite to eat?"

            "Yeah, I sure ain't in the mood for C-rations, I'll tell you that.  Let's try the pub over there."

            They entered the pub, which was called "Phoenix Nest".  "What'll it be, hon," the old waitress asked Rick.

            "Whatever the special of the day is, thanks."

            "Same here," Max chimed in.

            "Two moose steaks and two beers, coming right up," the waitress smiled.

            Rick cocked his head to one side, as the jukebox, a relic from the mid 1970's, picked up.

            (Turn Around)

            Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely, and you're never comin' round…

            (Turn Around)

            Every now and then, I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears…

            (Turn Around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous that the best of all my years have                            gone by…

(Turn Around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified, and then I see the look in your eyes…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit reckless and I dream of something wild…

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child in your arms…

"Rick?"  Max was trying to get his friends' attention, but realized that Rick was off in deep space somewhere, and let his friend finish the song in peace.

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit angry, and I know I gotta get out and cry…

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified, but then I see the look in your eyes…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

And I need you now, tonight

And I need you more than ever…

And if you only hold me tight,

We'll be holding on forever…

And we'll only be making it right,

Cuz we'll never be wrong

Together we can take it to the end of the night,

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time…

I don't know what to do; I'm always in the dark,

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks…

I really need you tonight…

Forever's gonna start tonight, forever's gonna start to-

Once upon a time, I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart;

There's nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart…

Once upon a time, there was light in my life, now there's only love in the dark…

Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.

"Ya know, Max," Rick said as the music's bridge kicked in, "This song, more than any other, makes me think of Lisa, and what I've put her through.  She deserves better than a low, egocentric flyboy like me."

(Turn around, bright eyes)

(Turn around, bright eyes)

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I know you'll never be the boy you always wanted to be…

(Turn around)

But every now and then, I know you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am…

(Turn around)

Every now and then, I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you…

(Turn around)

Every now and then I know there's nothing any better, there's nothing that I just wouldn't do…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

(Turn around, bright eyes)

Every now and then, I fall apart…

And I need you now, tonight

(And I need you)

And I need you more than ever…

And if you only hold me tight,

We'll be holding on forever…

And we'll only be making it right,

Cuz we'll never be wrong

Together we can take it to the end of the night,

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time…

I don't know what to do; I'm always in the dark,

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks…

I really need you tonight…

Forever's gonna start tonight, forever's gonna start to-

Once upon a time, I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart;

There's nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart…

Once upon a time, there was light in my life, now there's only love in the dark…

Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.

Rick rubbed his eyes a few times, trying to force his tears to disperse back into the ducts they came from, but a few escaped and rolled down the edge of his strong, defined jaw.  "I don't know why she haunts me so, Max.  I mean, I'm supposed to be in love with Minmei, so why is Lisa haunting my dreams, my thoughts, my waking moments?"

"Rick, I'm your friend, so please keep that in mind when I do what I'm about to do."; whereupon, Max slapped Rick solidly across the left cheek.  "You're sounding like a hormonal teenager, boss.  You're supposed to be the best pilot in the whole damn fleet!"

"You're mixing apples and oranges."

Max, by this time, had completely lost it and said to Rick what every man in the fleet was dying to say: "Screw that, man.  You're moping around because you're chasing a teenager's dream, that of a good-looking superstar.  She's not in your league, man.  You're way better than she is, or ever will be.  All she does is talk about her life, her projects, and her dreams.  I've heard you listen to her, Rick, and I did mean to say 'listen'; if you get three words in edgewise, you're a chatterbox in her world.  When has she comforted you when you lost pilots?  When Ben died, where was she?  She was dolled up on stage, singing her putrid little songs, which were all remixes of the same crap she sang in the beauty pageant.  After the Line, where was she?  Doing a charity tour, singing "We Will Win," not caring about the loss of life, because she didn't stand in any real danger herself.  And where is she now?  Off somewhere in the wastelands with her cousin, Lynn Kyle, probably flat on her back as he helps her hit the high notes.  Give up on Minmei, Rick, it's a lost cause."

Rick heard everything Max said, and nodded slowly.  "You know, you're right, I needed that."

"We all do, from time to time, boss," Max said, more in control of himself, with a small, self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Let me guess, every guy in the flight group must have wanted you to tell me that?"

"Something like that.  Now let's enjoy our moose steaks, they're getting a little cold."

Rick eyed the slab of meat on his plate, thinking it was a bit much for his stomach, but bit in and found he rather enjoyed it.  The roasted meat, combined with the cold beer, was a welcome vacation from service food, and he enjoyed every last savory bite.  He looked up once, to see Max almost face down in his plate.  Apparently, the food was enough to kill the conversation, so Rick looked at his own soul, and how close Minmei had driven him to the point of despair.  Why did he let that woman get so into his skin that he'd been driven batty?  How could he have let someone rule his heart and head so much?  More than that, which could all be easily explained by love, how could he have gone head-over-heels for a high school dropout who flirted with every man she saw, in uniform or out of it?  And her closeness to her cousin made him think again, and considered that Max may have been right with his off the cuff remark about how intimate they could possibly be. 

Rick mulled that over for a while and, although it stung for the first few minutes, the wound eventually cauterized in his heart, and he felt as if he'd grown in stature in the past 5 minutes; certainly he'd felt more on top of the world.  "I think this was just what the doctor ordered, Max."

"What, the food or the slap and lecture shtick?"

"Yes," Rick said flippantly.  "Well, we'd better get started looking around the area, seeing what we can find."

They paid their check and left the restaurant.  "Thank God it's southern Alaska," Max muttered.  "Otherwise, leaving our jackets behind for even a short amount of time would be a problem."

"Well, we won't have that problem anyway, we're going to pick them up on our way out of town."

They walked down the street towards what looked like the town hall.  A few steps from the curb, they heard a sound from behind.  "Hunter!  How're you doing?"

"Hey, Bob, how're you doing," Rick replied warily.

Bob Flynn, one of the ace pilots of the RDF, had been transferred to Alaska Base before the space-fold operation.  He led the secondary, planet-based pincer of the fighter wing on the Line, and had assumed command of the fight when Rick had to land on Earth after a missile barrage nailed him.  Now, Rick could see his former XO had been promoted to Major. (Air Force and naval ranks were different; because Rick was part of naval flight ops, he was promoted according to naval tradition; likewise, Flynn was assigned to ground flight ops, and was promoted to army traditions.  Bob was technically higher up than Rick had been, but Rick had de facto command by order of Gloval, independent of the UEG governing council.)  The two pilots had never been close friends, and, in fact, Flynn had always openly resented Rick's accomplishments, his command, and his rank, always doomed to be a second fiddle.  Thus, they were not close friends, but Rick, polite as always, at least made the attempt to be gracious.

"Not bad, duty in Monument City has been good to me.  Haven't seen you since the Line.  How'd you pull that one off?"

            "What do you mean," Rick asked.

            "I saw your fighter go off our screens about halfway through the battle, and, except for Max and Miriya, your whole squad was shot out of the sky.  How'd you survive?"

            "I guess that my reflexes are faster than I'd thought.  I saw a missile barrage heading my way, so I moved my arms to absorb the impact.  After that, I saw I was barely flight worthy, so I made a landing at the base below."

            "Even with your reputation and ego, Hunter, that's a helluva stretch."

            "What are you getting at, Flynn?"

            Flynn snapped his fingers and four armed guards stepped out from around the corner.  "I'm not the only one who doesn't believe you.  And I'm also not the only one in the upper ranks."

            "Whatever you're planning, Flynn, you won't get away with it.  Give it up now."

            One man stepped forward and frisked Rick and Max for weapons.  "Your watch, as well, Hunter.  General Leonard warned me about the new developments in R&D," Flynn said. Rick grudgingly handed it over, after a guard poked him a little harder than necessary in the back, and they escorted the captured pilots through a nearby storefront and into an elevator shaft.

************

I'm addicted to Babylon 5, as well. J  It'll make it all the more interesting when you see the next chapter.


	9. Trial By Fury

**_Chapter VIII_**

            Rick strained against his bonds, his hands chained against the wall by huge, almost cartoonish manacles.  Max was nearby, and they had both been stripped of their shirts and whipped in the icy basement.  He remembered being drugged before he passed out, but couldn't remember much else.  How many hours had been spent in mindless agony?  And what was worse, the pain his body was in, or the pain in his heart that he didn't know where Lisa was?  _Wherever she is, I hope she's ok_, he thought.  _I'll kill whoever harms her with my bare hands._

            The wall-mounted speaker started up again, as the guard entered the room for another round of whipping.  "What happened that night?  Why did you survive, while the other pilots died?  Who turned you two against your species?" In rhythm to the questions, the lashes were evenly and harshly applied to their shoulder blades and backs.

            "I told you already; I'm telling the truth," Max screamed.  He passed out, and his body went limp against the cold wall.

            Rick took a few more lashes against his back, and then blanked out in pure agony.

*************

            Some time later, Rick woke up staring into the face of a uniformed RDF guard flipping water in his face and was hauled to his feet.  At some point while he was unconscious, he had been unshackled, and his wrists were raw from chafing against the unpadded metal.  He looked over at Max, who was undergoing similar treatment, and they were both handed shapeless robes, of the variety that monks would wear.   He got a better look at the guards and saw that they wore RDF uniforms with crimson armbands with some sort of logo Rick couldn't identify.

            After they dressed, armed guard escorted Rick and Max to a central room in the underground complex.  There, they saw Lisa and Miriya dressed in a similar fashion, manacled to a circular platform in the center of the room.  "Lisa!"

            "What in the hell are you doing here, Rick?"

            "Max and I got shot down looking for you two, that's what.  We're here to rescue you."

            "Some rescue attempt," Miriya remarked.  "If this is what you Micronians call a "rescue," I'd hate to see what you consider to be hopeless.

            "Okay, okay," Max replied.  "So there's a small snafu with the plan…"

            "What plan is that," Lisa snapped.

            "Well, getting you both, and now us, out alive and preferably in one piece," Rick finished.

            "Silence!" a voice boomed from overhead.

            The four heroes ceased talking, searching for the source of the voice.  "You four have been brought here to stand trial for crimes against the Earth," the voice continued, as four robed figures walked out on the balcony ahead of them, three quarters of the way up the wall.  

"The charges against you read as follows: Commander Elizabeth Juliet Hayes: Dereliction of duty at Alaska Base, failure to conduct emergency communications and rescue operations when necessary, and desertion in the face of the enemy.  

"Commander Richard Sinclair Hunter: Desertion in the face of the enemy while acting as commanding officer, failure to properly obey the chain of command, and cowardice under fire.  

"Commander Maximillian Rudolph Sterling: Treason, conspiracy to commit treason, and dereliction of duty.  

"Commander Miriya Parino Sterling: Crimes against humanity, firing on unarmed and undefended targets, and subversion of the UEG infrastructure.  How do you plead?"

            "Not guilty," they responded as one.

            "Let the court-martial begin," said the lead judge.

            "Wait!" Lisa shouted.  "If we are to be tried by court martial, then I must ask for adherence to Section IV, Part III of the Military Code of Justice and demand to know my accusers and who claims jurisdiction in this matter."

            The lead judge took off his head covering and revealed General Maistroff.  He then removed the rest of his robe to reveal a scarlet uniform with buff and black trim. "Counselor Flynn, you may begin."

            "May it please the court," Flynn began, "I intend to show that, through the actions of these officers, or lack thereof, they caused the needless death of several hundred RDF personnel.  I also intend to prove that their sympathy for the Zentraedi prompted them to show mercy on a merciless enemy.

            "Commander Hayes, isn't it true that you were the air squadron defensive coordinator at Alaska Base on the evening of November 6, 2011?"

            "Yes, I was assigned to that role."

            "Can you please tell the court what happened on that night?"

            "The supreme leader of the Zentraedi forces, Emperor Dolza, personally led his fleet out of hyperspace around Earth, with the intent to join battle and destroy the planet."

            "And what was your first course of action when you noticed that that had happened?"

            "I notified Planetary Defense Minister Hayes and the war room, asking for permission to scramble the fighters."

            "And when the command bunker received a direct hit during the battle, what did you do?"

            "I called the war room to check the damage and spoke with Minister Hayes, my father, for the last time.  Another explosion finished off what was left of the Grand Cannon and killed him in the process."

            "Did you try to verify if there were other survivors?"

            "All of my sensors indicated that I was the sole survivor, but, even then, I attempted to raise a response from anyone else who might have been left.  I received no response to any of my pleas."

            "What happened then?"

            "I received a transmission from Commander Hunter, indicating that he was getting my messages and would offer assistance."

            "Did you receive any orders allowing for an evacuation of the base, or did you take that responsibility upon yourself?"

            "I made that decision myself," Lisa said, realizing that whatever her answer was, she was doomed anyway.

            "Did you attempt to secure emergency assistance for the rest of the base, or just for yourself?"

            "I had already determined to the best of my ability that I was the sole survivor, and, as such, sought only assistance for myself."

            "And if you had known there were other survivors?  That there were a dozen other survivors?"

            "I would have called for cargo shuttles to assist in the evacuation of the survivors.  I didn't know, I couldn't have known there was anyone else."

            "While you were being flown to safety, did you ask Commander Hunter to scan for other life forms in the area?"

            "Objection," a nearby Lieutenant shouted, a feeble attempt at a defense counsel.  "Asked and answered.  The Commander has already indicated that she had no knowledge of other survivors."

            "I'm merely attempting to establish the full extent to which Commander Hayes did her duties, your honors."

            "Overruled, the witness shall answer."

            "No, I did not."

            "One last question, Commander.  Your duty jacket indicates several bouts with alcoholism in the past two years.  Did you or did you not have a drink before you went on duty that night?"

            "I had two glasses of wine when I ate with my father, two hours before I went on duty."

            "And you had them, knowing full well that you have had problems with that substance in the past?"

            Lisa turned bright red and stared at the floor in shamed silence.

            "The court will take that as a yes.  Shall we further assume that you were drunk when you arrived at your post?"

            "No, I was not!  I was completely in command of my faculties."

            "So how did one squadron of VT's wind up flying to the wrong sector, resulting in their complete annihilation?"

            "Faulty intelligence.  The sensors indicated that a Zentraedi reserve battalion was heading in from that sector, when in reality it was an ambush that they'd prepared."

            "Maybe if you had been stone-cold sober that night, you would have known the difference."

            "Objection!"

            "Withdrawn.  That will suffice for now," Flynn continued.  _You bastard, _Rick thought.  _How could you **do** that to her?_

            Flynn turned his attention to Rick.  "Commander Hunter, what was your command posting as of that night?"

            "I was appointed to be the wing commander of the RDF air strike-force."

            "Leader of the whole fleet, eh?  So what happened?  Why did you leave your post?"

            "It was after I finished eliminating a Zentraedi scout ship and flew through the resultant explosion when I saw a missile barrage heading my way.  I moved my arms to absorb the impact.  In the resultant explosion, my Battloid's arms were sheared off, and, after running additional diagnostics, I saw I was barely flight worthy, so I made like I would attempt a landing at the base below."

            "Could you please describe the condition of your fighter at that point in time?"

            "The arms of my Battloid were destroyed, and the fusion engines were down to 75% efficiency, my missile payload was gone, my rudder barely functioning."

            "And your radio, Commander?  Was that damaged as well?"

            "No, it wasn't."

            "So why didn't you inform the SDF-1 of your decision to land?"

            "The bridge was overwhelmed with radio chatter, and I also didn't want my transmissions to be intercepted."

            "Is that the only reason, Commander?"

            "I don't know what you're getting at."

            "Did you or did you not intend to land your fighter in order to save yourself from destruction?"

            "No, I didn't."

            "And you deny that your landing was a deliberate attempt to reduce the effectiveness of the space armada?"

            "Absolutely," Rick snarled.

            "Isn't it true, Commander Hunter, that it was solely your romantic interest in Commander Hayes that dictated your actions that night?"

            "No, not entirely." Rick could hear a sharp intake of breath from Lisa's general direction.

            "That it was pure selfishness on your part that led to the deaths of your pilots?"

            _Maybe my absence from the battle did have a demoralizing effect_, he thought.  "Not at all."

            "Commander Hunter, if a subordinate in your position had done what you did, what would happen to him?"

            "He would have been responsible for the conduct and condition of the pilots under his command.  If his actions led to the death of his pilots, he would be reprimanded for failure to do his duty, maybe even demoted."

            "And is it your belief that your actions do not warrant such an reprimand?"

            "As battles follow no set course, unlike a river, I feel that I adapted my tactics accordingly to the changing circumstances I faced.  It was not my absence that caused the deaths of those pilots, it was the sheer volume of Zentraedi firepower."

"But you were the ranking officer present.  The very fact that you vacated your post under fire shows dereliction of duty."

"I couldn't stay in the combat zone in the condition my fighter was in; I'd have become a liability to myself and my pilots.  Landing was my only option."

"So you chose survival over death."

"What normal human being wouldn't?"

            Maistroff boomed out, "Enough, Flynn.  This court is satisfied that, in the cases of Commander Hayes and Commander Hunter, the prosecution has met its burden of proof.  They are hereby declared guilty as charged.  Court officers, please escort the prisoners to the holding cell to await sentencing."

*************

Suggestions are welcomed.


	10. Vindication among the ashes

**_Chapter IX_**

            A military base in Alaska is not without hazards of its own, Rick noted, as the guards led him and Lisa, both barefoot, down a lengthy corridor towards the holding cell.  The floors were colder than a banker's heart, and there was more ice than in a political power lunch.  The heat apparently worked, however, so it couldn't be all that bad.  There were three guards in front and three behind them, all carrying weapons that, to Rick, looked like a 10 gauge shotgun, except the squad leader, who marched behind the squad, carrying a 30mm chain gun.  Rick and Lisa exchanged glances.  This was _not_ going to be pleasant.

            "It certainly is an ice place to visit," Rick muttered.

            "I certainly wouldn't want to live here," Lisa rejoined.

            "It fits Maistroff, though.  Head like a block of ice."

            "I thought that was his heart; his head is a box of rocks."

            "True, this base is as warm and charming as his hospitality."

            A guard behind Rick snarled, "Shaddap, morons."

            "Oh, look, it speaks," Lisa noted thoughtfully.

            "Must be the miracle of the moment," Rick quipped.

            They reached the holding cell, which opened with a whoosh.  The guards shoved Lisa through the door first, harshly, so that she hit the opposing wall with a thud and fell down.  Then they shoved Rick in, and he fell on top of Lisa in a painful heap.  The guards laughed and departed, sealing them inside.

            Rick groaned, "Ya know, I don't object to the position, dear lady, merely the way in which it was accomplished."

            Lisa chuckled appreciatively.  "You're a mind-reader."

            Rick gingerly slid off from Lisa, and looked at her nervously.  "I was only half kidding about that, Lisa."

            "I'm sure you were, Rick."

            Lisa came to a sitting position, cradling her head in her hands.  "Why didn't we see this coming?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, with the remarks Maistroff has always made, his utter contempt for Gloval, his indifference in the ranks, his outright hostility towards the Zentraedi…I don't know, Rick.  Maybe we failed in our duties somehow."

            Rick smirked.  "The Prince of Darkness, as always, is a gentleman.  Evil doesn't always wear black outfits and have long, waxy moustaches.  Sometimes, they hide in our midst looking quite normal, or just slightly different, enough to make them seem harmless."

            "Where in the world did that come from?"

            "Too much time on my hand, I guess."

            "Man, it's freezing in here," Lisa commented.

            Rick stretched slowly and gently, then moved his arm around Lisa.

            "Slick move, mister.  You wouldn't be trying to pull a fast one on an old lady, would you?"

            "Old?  I'm only 4 years younger than you.  That's not an eternity."

            "In terms of maturity, it can be.  Take Minmei, for instance." Rick cringed at the name, and Lisa paused, wondering if she'd went too far.

            "I already know, Max and I had a long talk about that."

            "And what did Mr. Polite have to say?"

            "Well, he actually slapped me upside my head and screamed about how self centered and flirtatious Minmei was.  After I pondered that, I realized that she wasn't the woman, rather girl, I thought she was."

            "A mighty big admission, flyboy," Lisa smirked.

            "I know, but it made me start looking at things differently, at who really does care, who really does matter," Rick said as he stared into Lisa's deep, dark, sparkling emerald eyes.

            "You can't mean me," Lisa said.

            "But I do, after all."

            "But I'm older than you."

            "More mature, less likely to play games."

            "I outrank you."

            "Hearts fly higher than a VT, Commander," he winked.

            "I'm not who you think I am, Rick, I'm not perfect like that little pinup bimbo called Minmei."

            "Perfection is the destination, the real fun is in the journey.  You're perfect, Lisa.  Courageous, tough, brilliant tactician, and a beautiful woman, to boot."

            "I'm a hard-drinking, depressing old bag.  You're the young, handsome, skilled pilot the RDF dreams about.  You're perfection; I don't deserve you."

            Rick smiled disarmingly.  "Roy told me once that love overcomes all boundaries, all barriers.  I'm not perfect in my eyes, and you're not perfect in your own eyes.  We should pursue the perfection in each other, then."

            Lisa sat there stunned.  "When…when did you…?"

            "I don't know when, possibly during our escape from Alaska Base.  I can't begin to tell you how relieved I felt when you made it out alive."

            "Nor I how relieved when you rescued me.  But what made you give up on Minmei?"

            "There comes a time to fish or cut bait.  Or, in her case, fish or cut jailbait.  She always fell head over heels for every man in uniform, and I wouldn't be surprised if that was a literal behavior.  I've always been attracted to you, Lisa.  And I'm beginning to comprehend the pain I've caused you," Lisa's eyes teared up, and Rick wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs as he spoke. "But I also want to try and show you the goodness in life instead of just demonstrating the badness."

            Lisa brought her lips to bear, like any standard artillery emplacement.  Rick couldn't help but be fascinated by their fullness, their ruby color, their ability to enhance the beauty of an already drop-dead gorgeous woman.  He couldn't resist himself; he was drawn to this vulnerable, yet confident woman collected in a pool of humanity in his arms.  He stared into her eyes and leaned into her offer, an offer of life, of happiness, of rich fulfillment that no other woman could ever hope to offer.  His lips connected with hers and set off fireworks in his heart and head, knowing that his heart had made the right decision, knowing that true happiness could be theirs.  She slid her right arm around him and drew herself closer to him, and he responded by doing the same with his left arm.  He felt alive for the first time in ages and, for a few fleeting moments, ignored the probability of the death that waited on the other side of the door.  The powerful, raw, undiluted passion that they were sharing in that prolonged kiss was enough to shatter their conceptions of duty, relationships, and how to relate to the rest of the world.

            Lisa withdrew hesitantly and slightly ashamed of herself; she blushed furiously and tried to hide her emotions.  "I…I…don't know what to say; thank you is kind of silly."

            "Don't say anything, then.  Let's just try to conserve body heat, Commander."

            She grinned like a lawyer who just won a huge case.  "I'll hold you to that idea, Commander."

            "I was planning on that, at least."

            "Rick, do you ever have nightmares of things that never happened?"

            "Why do you ask?"

            "I have these recurring dreams about Alaska Base, Rick," she whispered softly.  "I dream, sometimes, that you never came to rescue me, that I died alongside my father at the Grand Cannon.  Another one has you and I crashing after escaping the fireball racing out the cavern behind us.  And it's funny; the thought of death never scares me if I'm to face it with you, Rick," she said disarmingly.

            "I know the feeling, I've had similar dreams, Lisa.  And death in those dreams never scares me unless it happens when you and I are apart."

            "Oh, Rick, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say these things to me."

            He looked her over playfully.  "Try to explain it, then."

            She drew him closer and grinned.  

            He knew it would be a loooong night.

**********

Notes: Okay, ladies, I sense a trend that tries to soften Rick up a bit using the romanticized view of how men should behave.  I'm trying to demonstrate that macho ness doesn't necessarily mean insensitivity to women and it doesn't always mean they're bad communicators; we just don't always find the right words. I write other fiction and poetry in my spare time, so if I need something for Rick to say, I steal from myself (unpublished).  I hope you like it.


	11. Revelations and Evasions

**_Chapter X_**

            Lisa had spent her time "sleeping" in a most productive fashion; she disconnected the vidcam in their cell, preventing anyone from monitoring them as they slept or did anything else.  Above all else, she hated peeping toms.  She heard voices in the hall, and she motioned to Rick to fake their slumber, and to get ready to affect their escape plan.

            A male and a female guard entered the cell, and Rick gave the male guard a sucker punch to the gut.  Lisa reached out for the woman's left hand and, grasping that, lifted her leg up to plant her foot squarely in the guard's midriff.  She pulled and rolled, pitching the guard over her head, knocking her out.  They quickly stripped the guards of their uniforms and head masks, and then exited the cell.

            They made their way towards where Max and Miriya were being held and silently knocked out the guards.  Rick touched his lips, signaling silence, and they all looked about for weapons.  Fortunately, they were being held in the armory, so they had a plethora of carnage-inducing devices to choose from.  Rick and Max each took two katanas.  Lisa and Miriya both took assault rifles, AK-47's to be exact, and a Walther PPK.  Rick looked over and saw that his MOG and his watch were on the table and he took those as well.  Lisa grabbed for a mini video camera, too.  Finally dressed in RDF uniforms, and wearing body armor underneath, they entered the hallway to affect their escape.

            "Lisa, you and Miriya find the airstrip.  Max and I have to find out what Maistroff is up to."

            "What do you mean, Rick?  Let's just get out of here."

            "He wouldn't go through the trouble of capturing us and railroading us without a purpose.  He's up to something, and I'm getting the feeling that this business about the raiders was just a cover story for a grand scheme of his."

            Lisa sighed, knowing there was no way to talk Rick out of it.  "All right.  Miriya and I will find a ride out of this hellhole.  Then will you come with us?"

            "Yes, dear," Rick joked, but meaning every word of it.

            Max took point as they advanced down to the right of the hallway, only to find that the hallway was surrounded by numerous troops.  The two men drew their swords, one in each hand, and took the flanks.

            "Surrender and come forward with your hands in the air," said a trooper.

            "How original," Max commented.

            "Maybe they could write my dialogue on their off days," Rick snorted.

            "Nah, then they'd wanna unionize," Lisa quipped.

            "Well, I don't know about you guys," Miriya commented, "but this is their idea of a union, as it is."

            "Time for us to break up the meeting," Max sneered.

            "Which way, port or starboard?"

            "Cut to the left, Rick."

            "Aye, sir."

            Rick took a few practice swings, then lunged forward with a swift slice that took the lead guard by surprise across and down, swinging a searing line of mutilated flesh from his left shoulder towards his abdomen.  He spun in with the slash, twirling the blade in his left hand towards the next victim.  The bulk of the squad facing him started retreating.

            Lisa, on the other hand, ran forward, looking as if to perform a gymnastics routine.  She did three forward flips towards the body of troopers and, when the third had been completed, she launched out into a spin kick towards the nearest guard and let loose a volley of throwing daggers hidden on her left forearm.  The squad had broken, was running, routed.

            Max and Miriya looked over the fresh beef they'd piled before them.  Several troopers dead, and Miriya was trying to apply a part of her uniform as a tourniquet on her upper right arm.  "Max, you two get out of here.  Secure us a transport.  We're going back in for the data."

            Max saluted and Miriya, through her pain, only nodded.  Lisa took him by the left hand, after Rick sheathed the katanas, and she led him towards what looked like the command section.

            They passed a lab window and looked inside.  What they saw was gruesome, indeed; a few Zentraedi captives chained to large tables.  Some had monstrous boils and welts on their limbs; others had festering sores on their faces.  They all leaked a clear pus-like fluid from their bodies.  Rick and Lisa couldn't see any humans in the room, but they knew that this was a danger to the fledgling alliance that had been formed with Breetai and Exedore.  Lisa glanced furtively about for any data that could be worth retrieving, but found nothing.  Rick, meantime, had tucked into an alcove ahead in the hallway, and hacked into the computer database.  He offered a low whistle, and Lisa came over to join him.  "Looks like he's trying to make a plague to wipe out the Zentraedi," Rick moaned in disbelief.

            "But what about or genetic similarities?"

            "They've tailored it so that it only affects what is different in Zentraedi bodies from the genes in the human DNA sequence.  It's useless against humans."

            "So that's why they captured Miriya.  But why did they capture the rest of us?"

            "Because, my dear" thundered a sinister voice from behind, "the ensuing Zentraedi holocaust will be blamed on you three in an act of senseless violence."

            Maistroff emerged, holding a pistol leveled at Lisa's breastbone.  Rick eyed him speculatively.  "So our trial…"

            "Was to build credence for the scenario I've outlined.  Who more logical to plan and execute a case of mass terrorism than disenfranchised and disgraced soldiers, heroes who have fallen from the regard of their superiors?"

            "You know that Admiral Gloval will never back you on this," Lisa spat out.

            "Oh, I'll have signed confessions from all of you before I show the Admiral," he sneered.  "Writing style can be faked and signatures can be forged, but you _will_ offer up a videotaped confession for us."

            "And if we refuse," Rick asked.

            "Then you'll die here," Maistroff explained.

            "I'd rather take my chances with the raiders," Lisa spat out.

            At this, the renegade general doubled over with laughter.  "Oh, good Lord," he chuckled.  "You mean that you all believed me when I talked about the raiders?  Kharfoux was a figment of my imagination, the mecha you were fighting was custom fitted for human sized pilots and were mostly drone pods; you were losing skilled crewmen to computerized soldiers!"

            Lisa and Rick both scowled and nodded towards each other.  Lisa went into a crouch for a roundhouse kick that knocked Maistroff off his feet, and Rick followed up with a two-handed slam across the older man's chest.  Then they took off towards the airstrip, dodging erratic blasts from the fallen rebel.

************

            Max and Miriya were waiting on the airstrip, with a Bell Huey troop transport chopper revving on the pad.  They each had full control of a coaxial-mounted chain gun, and motioned for Lisa to take the controls.  Miriya stepped into the cockpit to fly second chair, and they took off from the base.  Just as they sped up the engine, a platoon of heavy weapons troops started to overrun the airstrip.  Max and Rick fired away at the oncoming troops, mowing down a dozen or more with each burst of fire.  Finally, the bird gained enough altitude to fly away, and, using dead reckoning, they charted a course back towards the SDF-1.

************

AN: I've always wanted to see them engage in some combat that looked realistic, not hokey, like the bar fight in the series.  Also, the idea of Max and Rick being swordsmen and using a katana in each hand was vaguely appealing.  If this chapter is too bloody or graphic or far out for you, I apologize…but be warned, it'll get worse before the credits roll.


	12. Rest and Recovery

**_Chapter XI_**

            Rick lay back on his bunk, chuckling grimly.  The last time he'd been in this position, he'd been ordered on a commando mission.  Why did the war seem to go on forever?  Why was it that, when peace was finally at hand, strife had to multiply?

"Peace is only realized through battle," he heard a stealthy voice behind him.

He swirled around.  Lisa was standing in the doorway.  "Don't you ever knock?"

"Not enough panache," she replied, grinning.  "But in response to your predictable self castigation, people start battles because they have beliefs that are so deeply held that negotiation by any other means is pointless.  Life is worth only what individuals make of it, or else a priest and a murderer are of similar value.  Battle ends only when mankind has no deeply held beliefs of any kind, like political moderates."

"How can you say that?  Fighting battles is a wasteful expenditure of energy.  Peace is the only way to live.  Fear for one's life is counter-productive to true peace."

"A battle is only the physical manifestation of the philosophical clash between good and evil, right and wrong.  Battles are waged in the hearts and minds before they are made incarnate in flesh and iron.  As long as humans are alive, conflict will exist.  Do you think that preaching peace in the face of a live grenade will solve any problems?"

"If people only know fear and war, then how can they choose peace and serenity for themselves?"

"Peace is still a choice even in the middle of a war, if a soldier loses the will to fight.  Battle is used as a means to achieve peace by eliminating opposition."

"Wholesale slaughter is not a justifiable means of achieving peace!  How does the elimination of some life justify the preservation of others?  All life is sacred."

"Yes, but if something is sacred, then destroying it becomes a sacrilege and therefore the destroyer defiles himself.  All that is defiled must be destroyed, and that is not an affront to humanity."

"You saw what Maistroff plans to unleash on those Zentraedi!" he growled.  "That is what wars do to people!"

"No, this is what people do to people," she replied.  "A war is a series of events caused by humans.  Events don't kill people, for they have no ability to physically form the intent to do that."

"But what about the desires and emotions that cause these kinds of things?"

"That is beyond our power, Rick.  We can only act where we are and change what happens there, and let it ripple into the world."

He sighed.  "How many people have died as a result of our actions, Lisa?"

"Do you really want an answer to that, Rick?"

"Huh?"

"As of this morning, the tally was two hundred pilots, fifteen Macross City residents, and well over three hundred nameless, faceless Zentraedi troopers.  Almost five hundred recorded deaths."

"And are we any closer to peace or stability than when we started this?"

"Define stability.  We started this because we wanted to protect our planet from Zentraedi destruction.  They destabilized our planet, we made it right again.  With the various skirmishes we've engaged in, they've made things bad, we made things right again.  Stability is a relative concept, in the grand scheme of things."

"But if all we're doing is reacting to their actions, then we aren't preventing anything, are we?"

"No, we're not.  But denouncing battle won't lead to peace.  Remember, Massachusetts passed legislation outlawing the Vietnam War; Berkeley, CA, has made war a criminal offense.  Who listened to them?"

"If people think wars and sorrow are so bad, why can't they listen to their own beliefs?"

"Because when people feel so keyed up to the point of fighting, they believe so deeply and righteously in their cause that all other considerations are lost in the fog.  But the closest thing to perfect beauty in this realm of existence is a warrior with no distractions, whether engaged in political or other forms of combat.  The fluidity of purpose, the confidence, the energy spent in one productive moment after another, it all adds up to near perfection."

"And what if you're afraid to die?"

"That very emotion is what prevents the vast majority of people from fighting.  They have no desire to lose everything they have gained.  They want the benefits and not the hard work.  There is no gain without loss, and that is what most people fail to grasp.  A controlled battle is one where the losses are maintained and the gains are more than able to offset the losses."

"Why can't people find a less than lethal way of fighting?  Let robots duke it out, take humanity out of the line of fire?"

"Now, Rick, you should know that answer by now," Lisa chuckled indulgently.  "If humanity has no stake in the battles they start, then the outcomes are meaningless.  And if conflict is meaningless, then passion is meaningless, love becomes lost to the ages, and cultures fall apart.  It is conflict that holds humanity together."

            "I guess, since it brought us together, didn't it?"

            "You've got that right, flyboy.  And I wouldn't have it any other way."

            Rick stared into the endless reflections that he saw deep in the recesses of her emerald eyes, and saw how full of life and love they were.  But he also saw how much she had lost.  Her father, her fiancé, Karl Riber, her academy friends, her friends and co-workers at Alaska Base…they were similar, Lisa and he.  The only difference was how often they had to deal with death.  Every time he flew, and every time the squadron engaged an enemy force, there was always at least one "friendly letter" to write to grieving family members in some normal, non-military setting.  It was as if his pilots were living shields for him, and that they had paid his tab and had enabled him and Lisa to get to this point in their relationship.

            She reached out with her long, supple arms, which seemed to beg for contact, and he was only too happy to oblige her.  They grappled with each other with such ferocity that any observer unfamiliar with their history would have considered it a wrestling match.  Their lips met with such passion and gravity that, were it a physical force, several Zentraedi divisions would have felt its wrath.  "I love you," she whispered.

            "I love you, too," he replied.

            "I'm glad we've got the same shifts off, this doesn't happen too often."

            "Me, too."

            Then, they collapsed on the bunk, unwilling to return to the reality on the other side of the door.


	13. Research and Ragnarok

**_Chapter XII_**

            The blue sky was clear in the morning, showcasing the full beauty and radiance of the sun.  Its warmth, nature's way of freeing the planet from an eternity of nocturnal temperature, radiated through the small window in Rick's bunk.  He tried opening his eyes, but felt a soft, slightly prickly sensation on his eyelids.  Opening his eyes more fully, he saw strands of flaming red hair lying across his face.  Oddly, this didn't surprise him as much as he thought it would, and he just reached up to smooth the hair back against Lisa's face.  He looked over her sleeping form and was oddly enrapt; he was lost in the way the blanket hugged her every curve, the way her hair framed her face and shoulders, the content look her features had.  Just over her shoulder, there was the bedside clock, which read 0815, and he realized with a rush that he had to be at the _Prometheus_ in 45 minutes.  He sat up abruptly and felt Lisa stir next to him.

            "Morning, Rick," she yawned as she stretched.

            "Good morning, Lisa," he replied, then, panicking, jumped a little.  "What happened last night?"

            "You mean, you don't remember," she asked teasingly.

            "I'm serious, Lisa, I don't recall.  I don't want to think I did anything to you that you didn't want to have happen."

            "Calm down, Rick," she said, placing her arms around him calmly and comfortingly.  "Nothing intimate happened, if that's what you're afraid of.  In fact, we were both too exhausted to do much of anything.  I remember just reaching out to hold you, and then we both kind of passed out."

            Rick seemed mollified, yet still a touch panicked, and, proceeding to switch to his duty uniform, said, "I'm glad, Lisa.  I mean it's not that I don't want to do that kind of thing with you, but I don't want to rush into anything with you.  I mean, I love you, but I don't want to push too far too soon; my head isn't exactly on straight and I don't want to make any mistakes…not that loving you is a mistake…"

            Lisa rushed forward to quiet him.  "Rick, I fully understand what you mean.  Don't feel you have to apologize.  I've waited this long to have you in my life, I can wait forever to become more intimate, if that's how long you need to adjust and become comfortable with our new status.  I love you, and I'll respect and accept any outcome."

            "Thanks, Lisa," he said, kissing her on the cheek.  "I've got to report to the base, I'll see you after hours.  There's fresh soap in the shower and the clean towels are in the closet by the bathroom door."  Then, he ran out the door, trying to make up time so he wouldn't be late.

*************

Rick raced into the pilot's ready room, slightly out of breath.  "Morning, Commander Hunter," Max chuckled. 

            "Huh?  Oh, g'morning, Max," Rick smiled.

            "What kept you up all night, dare I ask?"

            Rick blushed.

            "Oh, I see," Max smirked.

            "Not quite, Max," Rick stumbled over his words.  "It was just aggressive embracing, if you catch my drift."

            "Ah, yes.  The trashy tango, I remember it well."

            "Gotta love the suspense.  It's kind of like being in high school all over again, Max.  I can't remember the last time I felt this confident, this happy."

            "It shows. I mean, you look like you could fly circles around a battle pod by flapping your wings and shoot them down by spitting at them."

            Mentioning the Zentraedi was enough to bring him back down to Earth.  "I hope we don't have to do that again, Max.  The alliance we've formed should keep the raiders at bay."

            "But what about that data you and Lisa, I mean, Commander Hayes, found about that plague?"

            "It seems like it is in the purely theoretical phase just now, but we need to stop him in his tracks."

            Rick sat down at his terminal and took a look into the personnel files in the RDF database.  "What was that old saying, 'know your enemy and know yourself'?"

            "Very true, boss.  Let's see what we know about him."

            "Bingo," Rick exclaimed.  "Take a look at this.  It sounds like he fought the entire GCW by himself."

            _Name_: _Maistroff, Vaclav Petrovitch_

_            Rank: Brigadier General, Infantry Division, Robotech Defense Force_

_            Birth Date: March 16, 1968  
            Primary Specialty: Intelligence and tactics_

_            Secondary Specialty: Weapons and armor_

_            Born in North America to third-generation Czech immigrants, young Vaclav was raised in borderline poverty, after his father died when he was five.  His mother was a seamstress and worked multiple shifts to put her son through school.  Maistroff did not really like or enjoy school, but he excelled in history and rhetoric.  After high school, he joined the armed services and quickly proved his worth, eventually working his way up to becoming a command sergeant in the 3rd Mechanized Infantry Division of the US Army.  He served with distinction through the Grenada campaign._

_On July 4, 1989, the United Nations formally collapsed, as insurgent forces from several Third World nations, masquerading as diplomatic entourages, took over the headquarters in New York City, sparking a tense hostage standoff.  Vaclav, now a lieutenant, had his forces surrounding the building, as a supplement to the NYPD.  Negotiations were proceeding smoothly when a terrorist with unknown affiliations detonated a large plastic charge inside the General Assembly.  Within 6 hours, every major alliance and every government had accused each other of assassinating their diplomats and the world was at war with itself._

_            Maistroff, now a captain in the Anglo-American League Militia, showed his remarkable aptitude for diplomacy and opportunism when he arranged standing alliances and reusable treaties with several major mercenary units, chief among them Hannibal's Steel Legion and the Lunar Wolf Pack.  He'd let the mercs rush in, soften up the defenses, and, when the enemy thought they had weathered the storm, he'd throw an offensive punch at them that was twice as strong as the initial attack.  Such thinking and planning had won the key cities of Paris and Bonn in the spring of 1991, and soon, his forces were on the march towards Berlin.  However, a swift and unpredictably brutal counterattack from the Russo-Germanic Hegemony decimated most of the armed forces of the League.  During the retreat across most of Europe, Maistroff and his forces were continually improvising unconventional battlefields and tactics to ensnare the opposition.  _

_His most devastating defensive tactic was to divide his corps into five units and disperse them in a circular fashion, only exposing three in front of the advancing enemy infantry divisions.  When the enemy would advance against the main force, the center of Maistroff's line would simulate flight, encouraging the foe, but also exposing the unsuspecting enemy to the twin divisions on their rear flank.  Once he had them mostly encircled, the enemy would almost always try to flee, resulting in more casualties than if they had stood to fight._

_In the spring of 1995, with Central Europe being stalemated, rumors abounded that the Berlin-Moscow alliance was about to fail and that the Russian military commanders were receptive to an Anglo-Russo-American alliance as had happened 50 years previous.  Maistroff volunteered himself and his division for a mission behind enemy lines that was meant to overthrow the Russian high command.  For almost a year, working with Commander Henry J. Gloval of the Israeli Naval Defense Force, also a former liaison to the US Military, as his liaison officer, his tiny, 40-man force conducted swift and brutally efficient commando raids in and around the Moscow-St. Petersburg-Stalingrad corridor, effectively tying up two Hegemony corps and preventing their use in the western theater.  In March of 1996, the Moscow regime fell, and was replaced with a government that supported and allied itself with the Anglo-American League.  The Germanic Confederacy counter-attacked, and, due to prolonged conflict with the Russian military, Maistroff was unable to withstand the assault for long without assistance.  He called upon his long-standing alliances with merc groups, and together, they saved the new government in Moscow._

_Maistroff, although talented and disciplined, is given to bouts of arrogance and irrational rage, and has an ingrained disdain for those with different skin colorations.  Has mild racist tendencies.  May become dangerous if rage and racism combine._

_End file_

"Wow, Rick," Max said.  "He's bold, daring, brutal, and unpredictable.  How can we fight against him?"

"Well, I hope we don't have to engage him head-on, but if we do, we must make sure that he does not win.  How, I don't know just yet, but we will make sure of that."

"Commander Hunter, this is the bridge," came in a flat, sterile voice.  "We have a report filtering in from New Sacramento that there is a large gathering of malcontent Zentraedi.  They're requesting a VT flight be sent out to help calm them down.  The Provisional Council has authorized you to negotiate on their behalf.  That is all."

"Well, I guess we'll have to check it out.  I mean, we are on duty, and it's been assigned to us, as well," Max said, dubiously.

"Yeah…"

"Skull Squadron, scramble.  Diplomatic escort duty today, but we'll still draw a full weapons load.  We don't want to be unarmed when we may need it," Max shouted into the bullhorn.

The sight of his pilots forming up on his wing always gave Rick a thrill of pride and he gave the signal for takeoff.  Once they climbed to standard altitude, he noticed a sensor anomaly.  Rick opened the squadron channel.  "All pilots, this is Commander Hunter.  Commander Sterling and I will join you in a bit, we're breaking off to investigate a sensor anomaly."

"Aye, sir," said Lieutenant Kelley.  "We'll catch you on the flipside."

"Thanks, Tom, keep em on their toes."

Max took the point position and they flew out over the wastelands to the north and west of New Macross City.  Suddenly, he chirped, "Captain Gloval, sir, I'm picking up enemy forces moving towards the city.  Three brigades at least, mostly Destroid units, some Valkyrie squadrons in support."

Both pilots heard a soft "Oy vey" on their headsets, and Gloval said, "Please confirm unit types and strength."

"I confirm his readings, captain," Rick said.

"Rick," Lisa spoke into his headset.  "There's an energy surge near the power generator downtown.  Could you check that out on your next flyover?"

"Sure thing, Lisa," he replied.  The squat, utilitarian buildings all looked the same to him, and he wasn't sure at all that he was nearing the generator, except…

"Lisa, I'm picking up a large radiation surge near the generator.  Evacuate the area immediately!"

"Attention all civilians! Evacuate! Evacuate! This city is under attack.  Please proceed to your shelters and wait for the all-clear signal."

"Lisa, I've found its location," Rick said.  "I'm gonna try to get rid of it."

"Be careful, Rick."

"I will."

The bomb was the size of a copier machine and looked like a cross between a bullfrog and a football.  It appeared to have enough power to contaminate the city for years.  There were readings of uranium and plutonium, and that could spell danger.  Rick flew towards the readings, 5 blocks away, but, as soon as he hit his afterburners, he saw a bright white light and felt a dizzying spell come over him as the explosion hit.

"Rick!" he heard a passionate voice in his headset cry out, then he went black.

*********

AN: It may be a little hokey, but I tried giving a reason for Maistroff's attitude.  And this is just a taste of what's to come.  On a more serious note, I couldn't figure out Maistroff and Gloval's ancestries based solely on their last names, so I guessed and fudged it a little bit.  May those who demand total and complete accuracy forgive me this minor point.


	14. Torments of the Mind, Torments of the So...

**_XIII_**

_Lisa's Perspective_

The remainder of her shift was a total blur; when Rick went down, she didn't know what to say or do next and went on remote control.  The last command she remembered giving was to order the Destroid units closest to the blast to scour the area for survivors.

Now it was 2300, and she couldn't sleep, even though her body ached and screamed for rest.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw either Alaska Base going up in flames or Rick's VT going out of control into the shockwave of a miniature semi-nuclear explosion.  She looked over at the bottle of Scotch on the counter, but she scolded herself for even considering that.  _Getting drunk off my ass won't bring him back_, she told herself.  The ache in her eyes, the throbbing soreness in her temples, and, above all, the nearly mind-wrenching, heartbreaking agony that blossomed in her stomach was all conspiring against her to prevent true rest or even a small nap.

_Just like the wind,_

_I've always been_

_Drifting high up in the sky that never ends…_

_Through thick and thin,_

_I always win,_

_'Cause I would fight both life and death to save a friend…_

Was this massive, important part of her life, the part of the puzzle of her heart that had been missing for so long, gone for good?  Was Rick just a passing torment, there to just relieve her pain and make her whole, then tear her apart when he departed?

_I face my destiny every day I live,_

_And the best in me is all I have to give._

She wished Claudia was there for her just then, or even Vanessa, Kim, or Sammie, but they all had to work extra shifts in hope of restoring some of the order in the chaos in Macross City's wretched and scarred streets.  Admiral Gloval had relieved her of duty because of her total loss of control after the explosion, knew how close she and Rick had become, and felt, akin to a father looking after his daughter, that she would be of more use after she had time to herself and some sleep under her belt.  

The last time she'd slept… 

No, she couldn't remind herself of that now, not while the wound was fresh in her heart.  Even though she made it worse; she'd run back to Rick's house, making it almost a shrine to her, and she stayed there because it was comforting to her.  The best comparison she could make was that someone had suddenly dropped the Grand Canyon into the middle of Central Park; the hole was that big and noticeable.  And no surgeon, no craftsman, no artisan could make her whole again.  No, she would not be whole again until she was safe and securely in Rick's strong arms.

_Just like the sun,_

_When my day's done,_

_Sometimes I don't like the person I've become…_

_Is the enemy within a thousand men?_

_Should I walk the path if my world's so dead ahead?_

_Is someone testing me every day I live?_

_Well the best in me is all I have to give._

_I can pretend,_

_I am the wind,_

_And I don't know if I will pass this way again…_

_All things must end, goodbye my friend._

_Think of me when you feel the sun or hear the wind._

_(1)_

At that point, Lisa burst into hysterical sobbing.  She hadn't felt this awful since she accidentally put a barrage of reflex warheads through Rick's VT in an attempt to destroy Khyron's errant scout ship.  At least then it was more possible that he could have survived like he did.  It wasn't a purely nuclear bomb this time; it was a radiological "dirty bomb" that had been detonated.  Those things were still nasty, though.  After all, a reflex weapon is not nuclear in nature, merely an abundance of thermal energy accelerated by gravitational exertion.  Nuclear was, well, like a microwave frying an egg. 

Lisa cringed at the analogy she made for herself and kept crying and screaming, shuddering uncontrollably as she went along. _It's a good thing these rooms are mostly soundproof. _She dully thought that she had hit her forehead along the rail of the bed but she didn't care; physical pain was an outlet for emotional pain.  Her toes hurt from mashing and ramming them against the floor in her spasms, and her forearms hurt from bashing into the side of the bed, but she was too far gone to care.  After a long, long time of physically abusing herself in that fashion, she passed out from a lack of oxygen.

*******

She saw a maze in front of her, a long, bluish gray sequence of walls.  She ran forward and made a left turn when the wall came up in front of her.  She came upon a cloaked figure holding an ancient, weather-beaten staff.  It spoke: "Whoso dares to disturb my slumber?"

"Um, it is I, kind stranger," Lisa replied, surprised at her meekness.

"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you."

"We?"

"Come along, my dear, there is much to discuss.  Memories and the past are useful tools to analyze the present and salve the conscious mind."

Time and space distorted as the cloaked stranger spoke, and soon, she saw a familiar memory.  "That's Moscow, but not as I remembered it," she said.

"Indeed," said the wraith.  And time started in motion, with soldiers streaming past her in defeat, wearing the uniforms of League Militia members.  "This is the spring of 1996, my dear," the wraith said, "and now seems like as good a time as any to show to you how your future was almost altered."

Captain Donald Hayes ran alongside his men, screaming for them to reform their lines, to hold their ground.  His face was creased with mud and scratches, he had perpetual stubble that only war-hardened men wore, and he was fatigued beyond words at that point in time.  He was shouting in words and tones that she couldn't hear, for they were the voices and the sounds of the past, ones never meant to be heard by the living.  Her father had been photogenic and even alluring in his slightly younger years, she noted.  Then, she saw him with an anti-tank weapon in his right hand and an assault rifle in his left hand, standing defiantly on the edge of a bridge, with the rest of his company retreating blindly across it.  

Captain Hayes fired off the anti-tank missile and it struck a Russian T-47 tank just below it's main cannon, then he dropped the empty launcher and fired his rifle blindly, in a rage, peppering the advancing infantry like one would season a Christmas roast.  There were piles of enemy weaponry at the edge of the bridge he was standing on, and he knelt, still firing, to grab another tank rocket and to grab another fully loaded rifle.  With the AK-47 slung over his shoulder, he fired off an RPG launcher at another advancing armored vehicle, an Armored Personnel Vehicle, filled with more infantry.  The illuminated sky was red with the fiery light of demolished vehicles.  Suddenly, he jerked back involuntarily, then put a hand on the left part of his abdomen.  Lisa could see the pain he was in, could see the blood spilling out as he continued to fire his assault rifle against the incoming infantry, taking more wounds to his upper body.  Suddenly, some of his own men came forward to rescue him, and she saw her father being carried off to the hospital.

The scene shifted to the operating room.  Her father's life signs were failing rapidly, and she almost screamed, _Not again!  I lost you already once, I don't want to lose you again!_

Then, Captain Gloval came in, and murmured something to the head doctor.  The doctor nodded and they both exited the room.  "Captain Gloval and your father had the same blood and tissue types.  Gloval saw your father needed a kidney and some blood, so he volunteered himself to offer what was needed," the wraith said.

Lisa sat there, silently.  "Why have you shown me this, spirit?"

"Because you were abusing yourself for events outside your own control and became deluded into thinking that it was all hopeless."

"So, you mean…"

"Come along, my dear."

It was Alaska Base, again.  She was sitting at her console, ordering squadrons to form up on various flanks and in various formations when the main blast came in, frying the shields and annihilating the Grand Cannon.  The ground rocked with the impact, and she went flying across the room, banging into chairs and consoles and dead bodies along the way.  The bodies scared her the most; they were all her coworkers and she had just become friendly with them a few days before.  Wires covered her as the faces of the dead seared images in her soul.  Then, she talked to her father for the last time, and she felt her legs go out from under her.  Once she could reestablish visual contact with the space armada, she watched in horror as fighters were picked out of the sky like maggots off a rotten piece of fruit.  She saw friends and subordinates die in fiery hulks of tortured metal, or melted to death by superheated lasers, or smashed to bits in suicidal fury, as they'd attempt to ram the Zentraedi cruisers.  

Then Rick's VT came in and rescued her, like plucking the Phoenix out of the ashes.  On the way out, though, the walls started blowing up, one after another, and the fireballs were engulfing his VT from stem to stern.  Once the glass became superheated, it imploded in their faces, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid shrapnel would blind her.  Rick's heartbeat was raised and yet controlled and that comforted her as he piloted her out of harm's way.

"This is your most frequented memory, Lisa," the wraith spoke mellifluously.  "Why does your mind drift back to it?"

"I, I don't know," she said, afraid of herself for the first time.

"It could be that it represents the death of your old life and the beginning of a new one.  Or it could mean that you just like to revel in being saved like the princesses of old."

"I…."

"Lisa, your life is still being lived, even without Rick Hunter.  He, and everyone else, is beyond your control.  Live for yourself and not the world, and not for anyone else.  Above all, don't lose hope for the future."  Then he faded from sight.

Lisa awoke with a fit of pure panic.  Life without Rick was no life at all.  And she loved him with every ounce of passion and life energy she could produce from her battered, scarred body.  She resolved that she would not rest, in purpose, at least, until she found him again.

She heard a car pull in front of Rick's house, and heard the steady tromp of weary feet, like someone staggering towards her door.  Frightened, she grabbed at his pistol and brought it to bear at the door to his bedroom.  She heard the key jiggle in the lock, and felt with growing terror the presence of a lumbering being coming across the living room floor.  Then, she saw the door fly open and Rick stumble and stagger towards the bed, utterly spent, battered, smoke-covered, and mildly feverish.  She reached out to catch him and comfort him as he slept, and she smiled softly, knowing that her man had come home to her at last.

*********

AN: The song, _I am the Wind_, is from Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and it's always been a favorite of mine.  The mnd-trip was always something I wanted to see her go through, like Rick did, and the backstory on Admiral Hayes, well, there had to be some reason they made him the planetary defense minister.


	15. Countdown to Hell

**_Chapter XIV_**

_No Fixed Character Perspective_

"Good morning, Commanders," Captain Gloval said as Max, Miriya, Rick, and Lisa all entered the conference module.  "Please, sit down.  Enjoy some coffee.  It may be the last quiet cup we can all enjoy together.  We have some reports to go over and other paperwork as well.  Let us begin with the promotions and awards.  Lisa, it is my great honor to promote you to Line Captain of the RDF.  Congratulations."

Lisa smiled broadly and saluted proudly.

"Rick, you are hereby promoted to Wing Captain in the RDF air fleet.  Congratulations, as well."

Rick smiled a little uncomfortably, then returned a salute.

"Max and Miriya, I have the honor to promote you each to Captain and place you in command of your own squadrons.  Again, congratulations."

Max and Miriya nodded and bowed formally, then offered very serious salutes.

"Now, then, on to Lt. Cmdr. Leeds' sensor reports.  If you will, Vanessa."

Vanessa cleared her throat nervously, stood at attention, and spoke, "Good morning.  Sensors indicate that a large force of Destroid units have gathered outside New Macross City.  Their allegiances are unknown, however, they are not carrying friendly transponders, nor are they transmitting friendly communications." 

She pointed to the overhead projector, which had schematics of a typical Destroid unit.  "These units are primarily Destroid Mark V variants.  Note that instead of their typical battery of lasers and rockets, their main weapons are rail guns.  A rail gun is a tube of alternating magnets serving to push and pull a metal projectile down the barrel at high speeds, achieving higher velocity than a normal gunpowder-propelled projectile. The only disadvantages these weapons have is their relative lack in reloading speed and their lack of effectiveness at close range.   In addition, their armor has been upgraded to twice the typical thickness, giving the pilots a greater chance of surviving combat with our units if need be, although it is at a sacrifice to their speed capabilities.  

"Also, there several units of the Mark VI variant, which has the additional armor, and has pulse cannons and flechette canister launchers.  Flechette rounds are more dangerous than other gunpowder-propelled projectiles because it turns any weapon into an oversized shotgun.  These rounds are especially effective against unarmored infantry, but they have shown, in theoretical testing, to also work against lightly armored areas of a Valkyrie, such as the limb joints.  This unit also carries an enhanced sensor package and communications jamming device."

Rick raised his hand.  "Vanessa, how did you gather all of this information so quickly?"

"In addition to my duties in the radar and detection department, I have occasionally assisted Dr. Lang in designing and developing equipment the SDF-1 could use," she said with a smile.  "A lot of this information comes from what I overheard Maistroff telling Dr. Lang, and some of it came from, well, snooping."

"I see," Rick said.

"Vanessa," Lisa asked, "When did these units come into their present position?"

"Within the past 6 hours, Lisa," Vanessa replied. "They came up quietly, while we were preoccupied with the bomb blast at the power plant in Section A-10.  And they haven't taken any hostile moves yet, but they're definitely there for some reason."

"Thank you, Vanessa," Gloval said.  Vanessa sat down.  "Lt. Cmdr. Grant, please present your report."

Claudia stood up, tall and regal as always.  Rick had always wondered why, as opposed to the rest of the command staff, Claudia's tunic was hunter green, but he eventually learned that she was the Army/Marine liaison officer, under Gloval's direct command, but also under Maistroff's command as well.  Claudia performed well, seamlessly guiding the two divisions of the service (ground and air/naval) to work together with as little friction as possible.

"Our Destroid forces are not as advanced as those surrounding us, and we also have a disadvantage in that they have access to a factory that can make more, whereas we do not at the present time, if things should turn ugly.  However, our initial production facility within New Macross City should be ready for initial production output by the end of the day tomorrow.  The bad news is that our forces are limited to Mark IV Destroids as well as some Mark III variants.  

"Instead of pulse lasers, we only have long- and short-range lasers, and instead of flechette rounds we have canister shots, which are your basic shotgun loads; large ball bearings packed in whatever scrap we could find and fired out of large bore guns.  Our missile supplies have not been replenished from our engagement at The Line, and our compliment of fighting mecha is still not up to full strength.  The tactical situation, should they force an action, would be in their favor."

"Lt. Porter, do you have anything to add?"

"Since this meeting began, Admiral," Sammie said, "We've recorded several communication intercepts between the unknown units and General Maistroff.  Given his service record and past history, as well as snippets from the intercepts, it appears that Hannibal's Steel Legion, the Doom Brigade, and the Lunar Wolf Pack have all banded together with renegade RDF infantry squadrons under Maistroff's command."

Rick let out a low whistle.  "That many pilots?  But how did they get that many mechs to throw against us?"

"Intelligence suggests that they repaired what they found at Alaska Base and whatever had been captured from isolated outposts out in the wastelands.  But their communications seem to indicate an alliance between the groups."

"Any sign of biological toxins in the area," Lisa asked.

"Not as yet, however, there are some areas within the sensor grid that are unreadable," Vanessa replied.  "Possible anomalies, but also the potential for jamming."

"Captain Hunter, would it be possible for you to escort a Cats' Eye out for some initial reconnaissance work?"

"Aye, sir, but it would probably be better if I piloted the craft, and had Captain Hayes as the sensor officer.  I'm not quite up for combat craft this morning, sir."

"I understand, and I will grant your request.  Prepare to launch in twenty minutes.  Max, Miriya, prepare your squadrons, Wraith and Rogue, respectively, to fly cover and interference.  If anything happens out there, I want that plane to have the best possible chance of survival.

All officers rose and saluted, as Admiral Gloval rose and left the room.

*******

AN: This is the second to last chapter of this installment.  That is not to say that the story arc will be finished, but merely that I've got too much to cram into one story and am making this at least a two-part story, if not a trilogy.  My efforts depend, as always, upon your comments and suggestions.  All are welcome, as are constructive critiques.


	16. Bullet's Impact

**_Chapter XV_**

_No Fixed Character Perspective_

T-minus-10 minutes before the launch of Periscope Flight, Admiral Gloval initiated a city- and ship-wide radio and television broadcast.

"Good morning, citizens of New Macross City, as well as those members of the Robotech Defense Forces under my command.

"This morning, we find ourselves surrounded by renegade mecha and several individuals intent upon at least threatening the use of force against this city.

" I realize that you have been through much in the past two years, and no one has felt the weariness and exhaustion with battle more than I, but we must prepare for battle for what I hope will be the last time.

"All civilians, please report to the shelters closest to the city center, and all combat personnel, please report to your duty stations.

"That is all."

***************

            Lisa and Rick, all through Gloval's announcement, were embracing each other and looking deeply into each other's eyes.  As soon as the announcement faded, Rick fumbled abruptly in his pockets.  Lisa looked on with amusement, and finally, he came up with what he was looking for.

            "Lisa, I know this isn't the best time or place, but I can't restrain myself anymore," he said, bringing up the box he held in his palm.  "Elizabeth Juliet Hayes, will you marry me?"

            "Isn't this a little sudden, Rick?"

            "Well, maybe in terms of how we've stopped being at each other's throats and started being close, yeah, it is fast, but this is merely an extension of my true feelings.  And I don't want to miss out on the best person in my life."

            Lisa opened the box, and stared at what appeared to be a very old ring.  "Rick…"

            He smiled.  "That was my mother's engagement ring.  When Pop died, I took to wearing it on a chain as a good luck charm.  It was in his family for a few generations, and I figure that, among other things, I'd help keep a family tradition alive.  We'll get you a proper one later on…"

            She whispered, "No, Rick, it's…perfect."

            "Shall I take this as a yes?"

            "Yes, Rick, I will marry you."

            "_All squadron pilots, please report to duty stations._"

            "Ah, shucks.  Just when we were getting to the good part," he sighed.

            "That can wait, Rick. As you know, duty calls."

            "True.

*********

            The Cat's Eye _Periscope One_ took off and flew in a circular fashion around the city.

            "By the way, you two, congratulations," Max said.

            "All right," Rick laughed, "who leaked to the rumor mill this time?"

            "No one," Miriya replied.  "We just happened to be in the next room over."

            "Yeah, Lisa, congratulations," the bridge crew all giggled on the intercom.

"I couldn't foresee a happier pairing, Lisa," Admiral Gloval said.

"Guilty as charged," Lisa chuckled.

            "What's our punishment," Max asked.

            "You'll be a part of the planning stages and wedding party."

            "Harsh."

            "You're getting off lightly, believe me," Rick chuckled, earning a swat on the head.

            "Heads up, guys," Lisa said, returning her attention to her work.  "I'm noticing that the Destroid forces are moving to encircle and entrap the city.  Our picket posts are not working, and may, indeed some have, joined the enemy.  They also seem to have some artillery, some rocket pods and other AA batteries at their disposal."

            "Lisa, this is the bridge.  _Periscope_ flight is to return to base immediately, for further orders."

            "Will comply, SDF-1 Control," Rick replied.

***********

            Henry J. Gloval looked out over the city.  The morning sun was now assuming the high noon position, a metaphor, he noted, for their current situation.  His old comrade-in-arms, Vaclav Maistroff, had gone renegade, encircling the city with a full army of Destroid units.  Gloval sighed, he couldn't really _blame_ Maistroff for what he felt; after all, the man's wife and kids were on Macross Island when the space fortress initially landed those twelve long years ago.  And with their loss, he filled the space he'd had used for their love as a storage for all the resentment and hatred he'd had for the Zentraedi.  At the Line, he advocated a show-no-mercy approach to surrendering vessels, and was appalled with Gloval's peace treaty.  Now, Gloval realized, Maistroff intended to enact revenge for his family's destruction, and revenge himself against the humans who he felt had betrayed their own race.  All that stood between Maistroff and a fourth global Holocaust was the SDF-1 and their limited resources in mecha and pilots.  He couldn't afford to let the citizens of what he had come to consider _his_ city get destroyed.  But how could he defend it?

            "Scramble all squadrons.  Have them assume a defensive position, and hold where they are told to.  Engineering, I want those shields working last week; Damage Control and Sickbay, stand by, you will be needed momentarily."

            The VT squadrons hovered over the city in Gerwalk mode, defending a portion of free airspace.  The Destroid units came in and assumed similar positions on the ground.  "Now, no matter what they do, don't let them antagonize you, do not let them provoke you.  If they want a fight, let them start it, and then we can finish it."

            "Admiral, _Periscope One_ is heading back to the _Prometheus_, sir."

            "Okay, Vanessa.  Have their escorts assume sentry position at grid Epsilon, Sector Delta 9-6-9-11."

            "Copied and will comply."

            Gloval looked out at the incoming plane and felt a cold wave of terror as he saw solid whitish-gray smoke emerge from the midsection.  "Admiral, _Periscope One_ is going down," Vanessa panicked.

            Then, the Cat's Eye burst into a fiery ball of flame, just short of the _Prometheus_'s runway.  

            "Belay the search for survivors," Gloval ordered with a trembling throat.  "We have more important duties to attend to."

            "Admiral, General Maistroff wishes to speak to you."

            "Tell him that unless he intends to surrender, he can save his breath."

            The SDF-1 shook under the impact of several salvos.

            "Direct hit to Weapons Pods 3 through 17 on the upper right superstructure.  No casualties."

            "Return fire, and attempt to punch a hole through their front point.  All squadrons, break by pairs and attack!"

            "Ineffective return fire, and the lead friendly Destroid unit has been overrun."

            Another hail of incoming fire from the Mark V Destroids' rail guns.

            "Captain, shield generators one through six are down, they couldn't take the pressure, and generators seven and eight are unable to restore balance.  Shields are failing," Claudia reported.

            They saw liquid dropping from the sky, and Kim shrieked in horror.  "The new incoming projectiles are secreting acid, Admiral!"

            "Confirmed, sir," Claudia reported.  "The acid seems to be tearing away at structural integrity.  The bridge received a glancing blow."

            "Are any of our salvos hitting the mark?"

            "Negative, sir," Claudia replied.  "They have an omni-directional barrier modified for field operations and all of our return fire is being wasted.  Our Destroids can't even get close!"

            "SDF-1 bridge, this is General Maistroff.  Stand down, or be destroyed," came a voice on the intercom.

            "This is Admiral Henry J. Gloval.  Negative on surrender.  This outrage must cease Vaclav, and it must cease now."

            "You're outnumbered and outgunned.  Why do you fight, Henry?"

            "Because it is the right thing to do, Maistroff.  Don't you realize that by acting like this you are becoming what you say you're fighting against?"

            "Rail all you want, Henry, but your command tenure is over."

            Gloval heard the tromp of boots behind him and he spun around to see RDF soldiers wearing red armbands.  "Hands up, Admiral, this is a mutiny."

            Gloval took two steps forward, hands outstretched, in an attempt to talk sense into the rebelling soldiers, and took a gunshot wound to the chest for his pains…

*********

AN: So ends the first installment in the thrilling Robotech Civil War saga.  I'll post my theory of the chain of command, the system of governance, and other trivia in the disclaimer on my next story, for those of you who love the minutiae like I do.  R&R, as always!!!  
  



	17. Appendix

**_Author's Notes:_**

            Perhaps I should have mentioned in my disclaimer that I have not read any of the officially sanctioned short fiction concerning Robotech, and that is the reason many, if not all, of my work may seem disjointed from the sense of continuity.  But I figured an altered reality type of story might give fans some fun on a long, boring night.  And I've been wrong before, and I'll be wrong again, but I do appreciate that small, loyal base of fans (thanks to all three of you) that has, more or less, given me feedback on almost all of my chapters.  These notes are definitely egotistical, and probably self-serving, but are intended to further give you an understanding of what ran through my mind for each chapter/event/whatnot.

Chapter I:

No real location had been given in the series, or anywhere else, to my knowledge, of the actual location of the SDF-1's final resting spot; however, since Rick and Lisa escaped Alaska Base, and were seen nearby as the SDF-1 landed safely on Earth, it stood to logic that New Macross was in Alaska.

Harry Chapin was, and is, in my opinion, one of the greatest singer/songwriters of all time, and his songs are wonderful for meditation.  In fact, the song I listed in the chapter was wonderful in helping me get over some breakups I've had.

The "Battle of the Line" notation was, indeed, a Babylon 5 reference, but, logically, what else could it be called, really?  I know, I know, there are a lot of cross-references to Babylon 5, but I think that the battle in "Force of Arms", especially as depicted in the PS2 game "Battlecry," was more of a linear battle than an orbital one, and those who know Babylon 5's first season will see a lot of similarities to a certain character. It was presented as a more or less linear exchange of broadsides between battleships and occasional non-linear combat between fighter crafts. And an orbit is a curved line of sorts; anyway, with the two lines of ships facing each other in Earth's orbit, I figured it would work.  That, and "Battle of Earth's Orbit" sounded more official, like what Gloval would use in his official transcripts and reports.

Chapter II:

Nightmares are awful things, and past events, if they have affected us deeply, can come back to haunt us.  The nightmare Rick has was intended to show his cumulative stress and inability to cope with extremely strong emotions.  Does it make sense?  Probably not, but dreams rarely do.

Gloval, at this point, had an inkling of what Maistroff may have been up to, but let it pass, in part because the provisional Ruling Council that they made up of senior RDF personnel was still fragile and uncertain, but also because he didn't want to give into paranoia and suspicion.  It shows that, indeed, he was a superb tactician and brilliant commander, as inferred in the series.  I stated that he was a commander with the Israeli Defense Force in Chapter XII.  That was not to imply that he was pure Israeli, else why would he, a Jewish naval officer, be a liaison officer between Maistroff and the Russian separatists?  In terms of ethnicity, it's not mutually exclusive; I felt he was a little of both, and played it that way.

Rick turning in his pistol was a reference to _Dr. No_, the first James Bond movie, and if there are any die-hards out there who know what I'm referring to, that one's for you.  And, yes, Dr. Lang is Q, and Vanessa plays Moneypenny, without the longing and heartbreak.  There will be more interaction with them in future stories and situations.  Still have to work on that not-quite-Welsh accent for Lang, however.

Re: the Latin Rick speaks.  I admit to some degree of intellectual snobbery, and that is the _only_ line of translated Latin that I can recall, almost 7 years out of high school, because I had volunteered to speak two paragraphs of that speech in the original language at an arts festival back then.  I gave it to Rick because I didn't think it was fair that the series portrayed him as a more or less stupid guy with a big heart and a lot of courage.  I wanted to give him a brain in his head.

Chapter III:

Anyone can tell that preparing to do something is, 9 times out of 10, harder to do than the actual task at hand.  Rick had never done this kind of mission before, and I really wanted to show the jitters one can get before a momentous act.  I plagiarized myself in that sequence with Roy, but then again, it was an attempt to reconcile the warrior and spiritual parts of my mind when I wrote it for the other work I'd written, and I thought that Rick could use it, so I went with it.

The nightmares coming back repeatedly are consistent with excessive trauma and stress.

Chapter IV:

Old rule of film, before the techniques of blurring and phase-outs, was to always "cut on the action."  I ended and began a chapter that way to hook the readers and allow for some suspense.  After all, what good am I if I can't keep people hooked?

Many people (myself included; I talked to paratroopers about this) do not know the physical sensations of leaping out of a plane and hurtling through the air; I felt it was something that needed mentioning.

The fact that there were human-style commandos in the canyon foreshadowed the upcoming conflict.  And Rick used knives to take out the sentries in order to avoid setting off the ammunition in the ammo dump.

Chapter V:

The meeting with the girls was a tad contrived, I'll admit, but it got them back into the mix and allowed Rick to focus on the task of finding Lisa, and on finding his feelings for her, as well.

Claudia and Lisa shared some similarities, and Roy and Rick did, likewise, so I figured that one of their shared tastes would be in what kind of women they found attractive. And a "younger brother" would tend to like what his "older sibling" liked, by and large.

The conspiracy deepened with the sensor logs (thanks, Spheresian, for the inspiration), but I, by and large, wrote this whole story flying by the seat of my pants, and had no idea it would take me where I wound up.  This is the first time that I, or anyone else, really, had a suspicion that something big was going on.

Chapter VI:

Max was always portrayed as optimistic and cheery, a hippie in the Air Force, if you will.  I figured that a little reality was good, and bad things happen, so Max needed to be something other than his doped-up optimistic self.  I've always felt that Rick and Max were two sides of the same coin; Rick was always more cautious in combat, yet more emotional out of the cockpit, whereas Max was a flamboyant pilot, cautious albeit creative in combat, yet definitely well-grounded emotionally.  They're both like all of the best friends that we've all had in our lives.

I made Maistroff the head of Intelligence for the sole purpose of making it more difficult for our heroes to do certain things they had wanted to do.

Chapter VII:

The town's name is an obscure reference to B5, and the bar scene was written to show that there is interaction between Max and Rick that does not involve planes and combat.  

I have never liked Minmei, and I think many people on this site agree with me.  However, I do like that rendition of "We Will Win," which was, in fact, the reason I bought the Robotech Perfect Soundtrack.  That being said, I never liked her character, and this chapter was a way to exorcise my demons over past memories as much as it was a chance to redirect Rick's emotions away from that little jailbait.  That song by Bonnie Tyler has always been a tearjerker for me, and I felt it was appropriate enough to get Rick's attention with that and redirect his thoughts.

What Max says to Rick was something I think we've all wanted to say to our best friends when they make obviously bone-headed decisions about their personal lives.  And Mr. Perfect was the right one to finally lose his cool and tell it straight from the hip.  Bravo.

The suspicion that other officers had about Rick's survival was not exactly widespread, but it did exist, and any young officer with ambition and talent can be a pain to an older officer who dislikes him, so a conspiracy was born, and Rick got caught, just according to plan.

The charges do mirror the charges against Sinclair in B5's first season, when he (Sinclair) was under suspicion, himself.

Chapter VIII:

A little inspiration from "Trial before Pilate" from Jesus Christ: Superstar was what led to the opening of the chapter, with the lashings, and the somewhat spiritual robes.

Naming characters has always been my weak suit, but I felt that, if it was a formal setting, then a full name for each character was in order.  Lisa's was, well, a little humor on my part, the whole Romeo and Juliet shtick; Rick's was, well, you know; with Max, I couldn't decide if he was German or Scottish, on account of the mismatching, I felt, of his two given names, so I flipped a coin and gave him a German middle name.  Miriya's was a given.

The trial was, or course, rigged, and was intended to be that way from the start.  Max and Miriya were also found guilty, by the way, but the main focus of the story was Rick and Lisa, so I felt that anything else was getting in the way.  Also, their fate could be inferred.

The scenes Lisa recounted are part canon (existent in the original series) and part interpretation.  After all, it would make sense that, as a combat controller, she would monitor the battle, and that she would, under those circumstances, see more carnage than usual in that battle. 

Chapter IX:

Most of this is self-explanatory, so few notes here.

Humor is a vital part of human survival, and I never got to see any comedic byplay in the series between Rick and Lisa, so I thought I'd give them something to work with.  Later on, I give them more opportunity to play, only with Max and Miriya as well.  Sometimes you just gotta let off a little steam.

The heat was working, even though the floors were cold.  The floor in that hallway was used to march prisoners, and frigid conditions are often used to induce cooperation in prisoners.  I figured that part of that was happening in this case.  So, that wasn't an error, but a creative torture device.

Men have always had a hard time talking to women when the interest was perceived as only from their vantage, and Rick was proceeding as if he didn't know how to handle himself, afraid of failure, and, equally, afraid of success.

The Minmei joke, about jailbait, was something I thought would be especially cutting and damaging, while convincing Lisa about his (Rick's) true feelings. 

Chapter X:

Nothing to note here

Chapter XI:

Again, a lot of self-plagiarizing, but with a purpose.  When you're an amateur, like Rick is, you occasionally need reassurance in knowing that you're doing the right thing.  That, and I needed an excuse to get Lisa in Rick's room. (grins)

Chapter XII:

Rick obviously loves the feeling of being next to Lisa, but is afraid of taking advantage of her, and feels embarrassed at his actions, since he cannot recall what happened the night before.

Maistroff was always a sketchy character, and we know nothing (from the canon) about his service and reason for holding such a high position on the SDF-1.  And, yes, I'm playing it fast and loose with nomenclature and ethnicity a bit, but, again, I have not read the novelizations as of yet, and am going strictly based on instinct and gut feelings.  Besides, a little fantasy never killed anyone, has it?

The bomb blast was, obviously, an attempt to widen the scope of the story to show what people other than Rick thought, felt, etc.  And I'd like to think I did a fair job with showing Lisa's tortured emotions.

Chapter XIII:

Hysteria usually sets in as the first phase of grief.  Denial is human, and Lisa is usually too gripped by it to function properly when it first sets in.

Minor note: On the song, it's "Think of me when you see the sun or feel the wind."  Typo on my part, sorry.

Lisa's father was a brave man, as seen in this dream sequence; I figured he had to do something extraordinary in order to achieve such a high rank at a comparatively young age.  Making him look like a big hero was a plus, in my book.

Chapter XIV:

The promotions scene was a tad contrived, I'll admit, but I thought that they needed to be addressed somehow.

The technology thrown together in this chapter is from Level 2 Battletech rules, and I hope it works, as a blending of the two realities.

Chapter XV:

Gloval always was big on communicating with the civilians on the SDF-1, and it naturally extended to when it became New Macross City, as well.

The proposal was a little hurried, but I hope people forgive me, it's kind of a live-for-the-moment kind of thing.  And they also didn't know if/when they'd be coming back; each patrol could be your last.

The bombardment and surrender/coup was staged, and a tad over the top, but it's on the theory that simpler is better.

I got a comment about how rushed this installment was.  It wasn't my intention to rush things, it's just how it ended up.  Maybe if I went through after the rest of the arc and edited it thoroughly, things may come together better, but the way things go, I go days between writing, and usually go with the first take, so to speak.

So, a tad late, these are my author's notes on my first Fan fiction story, "Racing the Bullet".  I hope you all enjoyed this minor ego trip of mine.


End file.
